“Oh, that's all rot. Mother wouldn't mind--anyway, I do as I like in this house.” From all she had heard of Mrs. Chater's beloved Bob, Mary guessed this to be true. Long prior to his arrival she had been prejudiced against him; acquaintance emphasised the prophetic impression. “Another night, then,” she said. He felt he was winning. No girl withstood him long. “No, to-night. Another thing--I want to know you better. This arrangement is all new to me. There was a nurse here in your place when I went. I've hardly spoken to you. Have you ever been abroad?” “No.” “Well, I'll tell you--and the kids--some of my adventures while you're tubbing 'em. Lead on.” She was at the night-nursery door. Evidently this man would not see her conventional reason for not wishing him at the tubbing. Angela had grown a biggish girl since he went away. She said, “Please not to-night.” “I'm jolly well coming,” he chuckled. The lesson of dependence was wilfully forgotten. Mary agreed with Angela and David: she hated this Bob. “No,” she said sharply, “you are not.” He had thrown his cigar into the grate; taken out another; stooped to the hearth to scratch a match. His back was to her; to him all her tone conveyed was that a “rag” was on hand. “We'll see,” he laughed; struck the match. She stepped swiftly within the door; closed it. Bob Chater laughed again; ran across. The lock clicked as she turned the key. “Let me in!” he cried, rattling the handle. “Let me in!” The splash of water answered him. He thumped the panel. “Open the door!” “Now, Angela,” he heard her say, “quick as lightning with that chimmy.” Bob's face darkened; he damned beneath his breath. Then with a laugh he turned away. “I'm going to have some fun with that girl,” he told himself; and on the way downstairs, her pretty face and figure in his mind, pleased himself with vicious anticipation. CHAPTER V. Excursions At A Dinner-Table. I. Two distressing reasons combined to compel Mrs. Chater to give Mary place at the evening meal. There was the aggravating fact that mothers'-helps, just as if they were ordinary people, must be fed; there was also the contingency that servants most strongly objected to serving a special meal--even “on a tray”--to one who was not of the family, yet who had airs above the kitchen. Except, then, when there were guests Miss Humfray must be accommodated at late dinner. Mrs. Chater considered it annoying, yet found in it certain comfortable advantages--as sympathy from friends: “Mustn't it be rather awkward sometimes, Mrs. Chater?” A plaintive shrug would illustrate the answer: “Well, it is, of course, very awkward sometimes; but one must put up with it. That class of person takes offence so easily, you know; and I always try to treat my lady-helps as well as possible.” “I'm sure you do, Mrs. Chater. How grateful they should be!” And this time a sad little laugh would illustrate: “Oh, one hardly expects gratitude nowadays, does one?”