But the housemaid, more acute, judged that someone must have been in the house--a view confirmed by the sight of the breakfast things on the nursery table.
The cupboard under the stairs was very tight and paraffiny, however, and a silent struggle for a place on top ended in the door bursting open and discharging Jane, who rolled like a football to the feet of the servants.
'Now,' said Cyril, firmly, when the cook's hysterics had become quieter, and the housemaid had time to say what she thought of them, 'don't you begin jawing us.

We aren't going to stand it.

We know too much.

You'll please make an extra special treacle roley for dinner, and we'll have a tinned tongue.' 'I daresay,' said the housemaid, indignant, still in her outdoor things and with her hat very much on one side.

'Don't you come a-threatening me, Master Cyril, because I won't stand it, so I tell you.