“I am rather surprised that Miss Fenton should make such a request after her treatment of my boy yesterday,” returned Mrs. Markham, ungraciously. I think if she had dared to contradict Rolf she would not have given her consent, but a sulky look was already clouding his face. “Never mind about that,” he said, impatiently; “Miss Fenton is going to make the tail for my kite; and I am going out with her this afternoon, and I shall and will go.” “Master Rolf, that is not the way to answer your mother.” “You may leave me to rebuke my own child,” she observed, coldly. “Very well, Rolf; you may go, but you need not be so cross about it. I came to see about the children, Miss Fenton; I think it is too hot for them to go on the beach this afternoon.” “Joyce will wear her sun-bonnet; and there is a nice breeze,” I returned, somewhat ruffled by this interference. I fancy she did it to aggravate me, for there was no fault to be found with the weather, and I knew my mistress always left these things to me. She remained for a few minutes making little suggestions about the ventilation and the nursery arrangements, which I bore as patiently as I could, though the harsh, metallic voice irritated me dreadfully. I did not wish to be disrespectful to Mrs. Markham, but I did not feel bound to obey her orders, and I knew I should tell her so if any grave dispute arose between us. I was rather relieved when she left the room at last, taking Rolf with her; but a few minutes afterwards Judson glided in on tiptoe. “Oh, Miss Fenton,” she said, in a pathetic voice, “I am so grateful to you for promising to take charge of Master Rolf this afternoon; I thought there would be such a piece of work; Master Rolf thought he was going out in the carriage, and Mrs. Markham has friends and cannot find room for him; and what I should have done with him I hardly know, all the afternoon.” “If Rolf is good I have no objection to take charge of him; I am very fond of children, only they must be obedient.” “Obedience is an unknown word to Master Rolf,” returned Judson, lugubriously; “times out of number that boy has got me into trouble, just because he would not mind a word I said. Why, he got the colonel’s sword out of his mother’s wardrobe one day and nearly killed himself, and another morning he fired off his grandfather’s gun, that had been loaded by mistake, and shot poor old Pincher, not that he meant to do it; he was aiming at one of the pheasants.” This was not pleasant to hear, and I inwardly resolved not to trust the children out of my sight; for who could tell what unforeseen accident might arise from Rolf’s recklessness?