Veronica, contrary to her wont, huddled herself on the sofa. Arthur
played round the chair of mother, who looked happy and forgetful.
After Temperance had rearranged the table for father's supper we were
quiet. I meditated how I could best amuse myself, where I should go,
and what I should do, when Veronica, whom I had forgotten, interrupted
my thoughts.

"Mother," she said, "eating toast does not make me better-tempered;
I feel evil still. You know," turning to me, "that my temper is worse
than ever; it is like a tiger's."

"Oh, Verry," said mother, "not quite so bad; you are too hard upon
yourself."

"Mother, you said so to Hepsey, when I tore her turban from her head,
it was _so_ ugly. Can you forget you said such a thing?"

"Verry, you drive me wild. Must I say that I was wrong? Say so to my
own child?"

Verry turned her face to the wall and said no more; but she had
started a less pleasant train of thought. It was changed again by
Temperance coming with lights. Though the tall brass lamps glittered
like gold, their circle of light was small; the corners of the room
were obscure. Mr. Park, entering, retreated into one, and mother was
obliged to forego the pleasure of undressing Arthur; so she sent him
off with Temperance and Charles, whose duty it was to rock the cradle
as long as his babyship required.

Soon after father came, and Hepsey brought in his hot supper; while he