"Oh, yes, that’s because you none liked the second best, miss, so I hordered the best. Even Miss Sheilerpat said she would as soon ’ave her bread buttered with candle grease, a little bit of a thing like ’er! You see, miss, you’ve been used to country butter and the best, living in a castle as you did—" Nell hardly smiled. "But which does Aunt Kezia have, Sarah?" "The second best. She’s a Scotch lady, you see, miss, and different and—it seemed to grow worse lately—" "It can’t be helped, Sarah. Candle grease or lamp oil, we must have it, if Aunt Kezia did. And—don’t you think you could use less butter in your cooking, Sarah?" She felt distinctly mean as she said it, but it was only in accordance with strict injunctions in Miss Kezia’s letter. "Oh, well, miss," Sarah’s tone grew ruffled, "I couldn’t cook proper with less! And as for dripping—_you_ wouldn’t like that!" "But you must use it if you do when Aunt Kezia is at home, Sarah," said Nell, preparing to flee. Now dripping was to Sarah as a red rag to a bull. Nell was pursued across the hall and into the morning room with an avalanche of excited eloquence, the refrain of which was: "Castle folk to eat dripping! Why, you’ll turn sick at it, miss!" Nell, in a perfect excess of goodness, went up to the Stronghold once more, and averting her eyes from a study of foxhounds on her easel, took up the account-book once more. She sent Molly and the Atom out with Kate Kearney, and then she wrestled. The end of it was flushed cheeks, angry eyes, worried brows, and a ruffled head of hair. Then Nell flung the book into a corner of the room. "That’s where you ought to be, you nasty, sordid, money-grubbing little worm!" "Hulloa," cried Denis, suddenly appearing with Ted. "Whom on earth are you talking to, and swearing at, what’s more?" "How-do-you-do?" said Nell to Ted. "Been washing your head, twin?" "No." "It looks like it, and you look pretty warm." "Oh, do leave my looks alone!" petulantly. Denis’s eyebrows went up. Ted looked out of the window and whistled with soft energy to himself. "Silly old bounder wouldn’t come in for ages," observed Denis, sitting astride a chair; "says he was here to lunch yesterday." He paused, and waited for her to speak. She gave a little gasp, as she remembered the curried chicken, and was silent. Denis’s brows drew together in a great frown. Ted broke in with a laugh. "I’m not going to stay now! I only came in to pacify O.B." With a little flush of horror all her instincts of hospitality awoke. "Shut the door, Denis! Guard it! Don’t let him go, except over your dead body!" His brow cleared at once; laughing, he placed himself before the door. "Oh, but," expostulated Ted, "I—er—I—really, you know, I just _live_ here!" "Wish you did, old man!" "It’s awfully kind, you know, and all that, but—"