This was not quite true. Martha had been in _once_, and had been scolded for her pains. “None of them ever will get up on a Sunday morning,” added Martha; “they say, ‘where’s the good?’” “Bring in breakfast,” crossly responded Lady Augusta. “And then go to the young ladies, and see whether the rest are getting up. What has the cook been at with this coffee?” Lady Augusta added, when she began to pour it out. “It is cold. Her coffee is always cold.” “It has been made half an hour, I know, my lady.” The first to appear was the youngest child of all, little Frank; the next his brother, a year older; they wore dirty collars, and their hair was uncombed. Then came the girls--Caroline without a frock, a shawl thrown on, instead, and Fanny in curl papers. Lady Augusta scolded them for their late appearance, forgetting, possibly, that she herself set the example. “It is not much past ten,” said Caroline. “We shall be in time for college.” “It is nearly upon half-past,” replied Lady Augusta. “Why do you come down in a petticoat, Caroline?” “That stupid dressmaker has put no tape to my dress,” fretfully responded Caroline. “Martha is sewing it on.” Roland lounged in, not more presentable than the rest. Why had Lady Augusta not brought them up to better habits? Why should they come down on a Sunday morning more untidy than on other mornings? They would have told you, had you asked the question, that on other mornings they must be ready to hasten to their daily occupations. Had _Sunday_ no occupation, then? Did it deserve no marked deference? Had I been Lady Augusta Yorke, I should have said to Roland that morning, when I saw his slip-shod slippers and his collarless neck, “If you can show no respect for me, show it for the day.” Half-past ten struck, and Lady Augusta started up to fly to her own room. She had still much to do, ere she could be presentable for college. Caroline followed. Fanny wondered what Gerald and Tod would do. Not yet down! “Those boys will get a tanning, to-morrow, from old Pye!” exclaimed Roland, remembering the time when “tannings” had been his portion for the same fault. “Go and see what they are after, Martha.” They were “after” jumping up in alarm, aroused by the college bell. Amidst wild confusion, for nothing seemed to be at hand, with harsh reproaches to Martha, touching their shirts and socks, and other articles of attire, they scrambled downstairs, somehow, and flew out of the house on their way to the college schoolroom; Gerald drinking a freshly made scalding cup of coffee; Tod cramming a thick piece of bread and butter into his pocket, and trusting to some spare moment to eat it in. All this was the usual scramble of Sunday morning. The Yorkes did get to college, somehow, and there was an end of it. After the conclusion of the service, as the congregation were dispersing, Mr. Galloway came up to Arthur Channing in the cloisters, and drew him aside.