How was it ?" "It was the cat," sobbed Elizabeth.
"What a barefaced falsehood." exclaimed Selina.

"You wicked girl, how could it possibly be the cat?
Do you know that you are telling a lie, and that lies are hateful, and that all liars go to--" "Nonsense, hush!" interrupted Hilary, rather sharply; for Selina's "tongue," the terror of her childhood, now merely annoyed her.
Selina's temper was a long understood household fact--they did not much mind it, knowing that her bark was worse than her bite--but it was provoking that she should exhibit herself so soon before the new servant.
The latter first looked up at the lady with simple surprise; then, as in spite of the other two, Miss Selina worked herself up into a downright passion, and unlimited abuse fell upon the victim's devoted head, Elizabeth's manner changed.

After one dogged repetition of, "It was the cat!" not another word could be got out of her.

She stood, her eyes fixed on the kitchen floor, her brows knitted, and her under lip pushed out--the very picture of sullenness.

Young as she was, Elizabeth evidently had, like her unfortunate mistress, "a temper of her own"-- a spiritual deformity that some people are born with, as others with hare-lip or club-foot; only, unlike these, it may be conquered, though the battle is long and sore, sometimes ending only with life.
It had plainly never commenced with poor Elizabeth Hand.