She was due at the school house at nine-thirty. Gene would take the eight-nineteen train to town, and Nan would likely go with him. There would be time after they left to put up a lunch for the children if she hurried. Nan didn’t like them to take their lunch, but Nan would have to stand it this time, for she meant to take that examination. She shut her lips tightly and began to remove the breakfast things from the table swiftly and quietly, leaving a plate for Junior who would be sure to be down late. Her mind was stinging with the insults that had been flung at her. She had always known that she and her cousins were not compatible but such open words of affront had never been given her before, although the last few days since the funeral there had been glances and tones of contempt that hurt her. She had tried to be patient, hoping soon to be in a position where she would not longer be dependent upon her relatives. There was some wrangling between Junior and his sister before Nan and Gene left for the train, and Joyce had been obliged to leave her work to settle the dispute; and again after they were gone she had to stop spreading the bread for the lunches and hunt for Junior’s cap and Dorothea’s arithmetic. It was a breathless time at the end, getting the lunches packed and the children off to school. She met with no opposition from them about taking their lunches for they loved to do it, but they insisted on two slices apiece of jelly roll which so reduced the amount left in the cake box that Joyce added “jelly roll” to the numerous things she must do when she got back from her examination. But at last she saw them run off together down the street and she was free to rush to her room, smooth her hair, and slip into her dark blue serge. It remained to be seen how much time there would be left for the cellar when she got home. But whatever came she must get those examinations done. When she was half way downstairs she ran back and picked up a few little treasured trinkets from her upper bureau drawer sweeping them into her bag, some things that Aunt Mary had given her, a bit of real lace, some Christmas handkerchiefs, one or two pieces of jewelry, things that she prized and did not want handled over. Both Dorothea and her mother seemed to consider they had a perfect right to rummage in her bureau drawers and the day before Joyce had come upon Nan just emerging from her clothespress door as if she had been looking things over there. It was not that the girl had anything of much value, but there were a few little things that seemed sacred to her because of their association, and she could not bear to have them handled over contemptuously by her cousin. Nan might return sooner than she expected and would be sure to come to her room to look for her. It would only anger her if she found the door locked, and anyhow the spare room key fitted her lock also. There was no privacy to be had in the house since Aunt Mary’s death.