"Then you're a naughty, wicked boy, Bobby, for not saying so sooner," cried Mrs Rumsey, angrily. "Don't make that noise, or you shall have no breakfast." Bobby was drawing a long breath for a furious howl, but he glanced hungrily at the bread and butter, smoothed his countenance, and put off the performance for the present. "I declare it's too bad," continued mamma; "he knows how anxious I am when he's away, and yet he comes creeping back at daybreak, like a burglar, to steal his own fishing-tackle, and goes, no one knows where, after a few nasty trout." "Then Mr Tregenna must be better," said Madge. "Oh, yes, my dear, he's better," said Mrs Rumsey, petulantly. "What a silly girl you are to think of such things. I'm sure I ought to be a framing to you. Look at me!" Certainly, as an example against entering into the marriage state Mrs Rumsey was a warning; but, like most other such warnings, ineffectual. "I couldn't help calling just to try and hear a few words," said Madge; "but you won't betray me, dear?" "Oh, no, I won't tell, Madge," said Mrs Rumsey, a little less grimly, and evidently greatly delighted at being made the repository of the young girl's love affair. "But I do wonder at you, Madge," she said, in a whisper, with a slice of bread and butter half cut. "John Tregenna's all very well, and certainly he has a noble nose, but you've got somebody far nicer at home." "Yes, isn't he nice?" whispered back Madge. "I've only seen him once, dear, but I thought him far before John Tregenna." "Yes," said Madge, sighing. "Yes, I know, my dear. John Tregenna has such a way with him." "He has indeed," said Madge, sighing again. "Ah, well, my dear," said Mrs Rumsey, finishing the slice, and laying it in its place upon the pile, "I ought not to say any thing against it, if you are set upon such a wilful course, for John Tregenna is papa's patient, and of course you would be; and what with measles, and chicken-pox, and scarlatina, your family would be a help." "Oh, Charlotte dear!" exclaimed Madge. "Ah, you may say, `Oh, Charlotte dear!' but it must come to that; and a good thing too, for I'm sure our income's limited enough, and--Oh, here he is at last, and his boots wet through. There, now: if there ever was an unreasonable man, it's my husband. He's bringing that Mr Trethick in to breakfast." "Oh, what shall I do?" cried Madge, to her companion. "Let me go without his seeing me." "You can slip out at the back," said Mrs Rumsey, "and he won't see you." But Madge thought it would look so cowardly, and, after a glance at the glass, determined to face Geoffrey, who was half pushed into the room by the doctor. "Ma, dear, here's Mr Trethick. We've had a couple of hours up the stream." "And there's nothing but bread and butter, papa," said Mrs Rumsey, in an injured tone. "I didn't know you were going to bring company."