"Ethel will give no attention to anything but her books! I've a great mind to put an end to all the Latin and Greek! She cares for nothing else." Ethel could little brook injustice, and much as she was grieving, she exclaimed, "Papa, papa, I do care--now don't I, Margaret?
I did my best!" "Don't talk nonsense.

Your best, indeed! If you had taken the most moderate care--" "I believe Ethel took rather too much care," said Margaret, much more harassed by the scolding than by the pain.

"It will be all right presently.

Never mind, dear papa." But he was not only grieved for the present, but anxious for the future; and, though he knew it was bad for Margaret to manifest his displeasure, he could not restrain it, and continued to blame Ethel with enough of injustice to set her on vindication, whereupon he silenced her, by telling her she was making it worse by self-justification when Margaret ought to be quiet.

Margaret tried to talk of other things, but was in too much discomfort to exert herself enough to divert his attention.
At last Flora returned, and saw in an instant what was wanted.