Life to her was a grand romantic drama,--perhaps, alas! a tragedy--but it never could be made into a genteel comedy, with childish intrigues, Liliputian battles, tempests in teapots, or thunders made upon kettle-drums.
Thus, concluding the temporary storm was over, and almost forgetting it at the half-hour's end, she called cheerfully to the children to get ready for a walk with her this sunshiny morning.
Miss Gascoigne rose, her black eyes flashing: "Children, you will not leave the house.

You will walk with nobody but your own proper nurse.

It was your poor mamma's custom and, though she is dead, her wishes shall be carried out, at least so long as I am alive." Christian stood utterly amazed.

Her intention had been so harmless; she had thought the walk good for the children, and perhaps good for herself to have their company.

She had meant to take them out with her the first available day, and begin a regular series of rambles, which perhaps might win their little hearts toward her, for they still kept aloof and shy; and now all her pleasant plans were set aside.
And there the children stood, half frightened, half amused, watching the conflict of authority between their elders.