“Perhaps that was because he had taken so little breakfast.” “No, child, you don’t know what you are talking about. There are some things Mr. Hope can never touch without being ill afterwards. Mrs. Hope is very careful of his diet. There’s pickles, for instance; he hasn’t touched a pickle for sixteen years, yet to-day he consumed a great quantity, and drank a whole bottle of beer, besides roast beef and cheese, and ever so many other things. Mrs. Hope, poor woman, is sitting with folded hands, waiting for him to die. I never saw such a look of heavenly resignation on any human face before.” “As on Mr.. Hope’s?” “Edna, don’t be pert. You know very well I mean Mrs. Hope.” “Really, mother, I didn’t. I thought perhaps Mr. Hope was resigned. What does he say?” “He says it hasn’t hurt him in the least, but Mrs. Hope merely sighs and shakes her head. She knows what is in store for him.” “I’ll warrant the poor man was just hungry, and tired of too much dieting. I hope he enjoyed his meal.” “Edna, you have too little experience, and, much as I regret to say it, too little sense to understand what it means. Mr. Hope’s digestive organs have always been weak--always. If it had not been for his wife’s anxious care, he would have been dead long ago. She allowed him out of her sight for a few minutes this morning, and refused all callers, except myself and one or two of her own very dearest friends, and you see what happened. She fears that the excitement of yesterday has completely ruined his nerves, and that he doesn’t know what he is doing, although he insists he feels as well as ever he did; but I said to Mrs. Hope I would have the best medical advice at once if I were in her place. Who was it called here to see your father while I was away?” “I have not been in the house since you left.” “What! In the garden all this time! Edna, when will you learn to have some responsibility? How can you expect the maids to do their duty if you neglect yours and never look after them?” “You train them so well, mother, that I did not think it was necessary for me to look after them while you were away.” “Yes, I train them, and, I hope, I do my duty towards them; but you also have duties to perform, although you think so lightly of them. You forget that for every hour idled away you will have to give an account on the Last Great Day.” “I have not been idling, and, even if I had, one can’t be always thinking of the Last Great Day.” They had by this time reached the drawing-room, and Mrs. Sartwell sat down, gazing with chastened severity at her step-daughter.