one doesn't like this and the other doesn't like that, and nothing I do
is right, and there's nothing but rows and squabblings in the kitchen,
and no peace nowhere--well, I gives it all up! P'r'aps somebody else
could manage better."

Fanny's voice rose more and more shrilly. Poor Kitty's head by this
time was aching badly, and her nerves were all on edge. "Fanny, what
_is_ the matter?" she asked despairingly. "What has happened while
we've been away? I thought we were coming home to a nice comfortable
meal and a happy evening, and when we drive up the house is all dark,
and the rain beating in at the windows. Emily is in a fury, and--and oh
it is all so miserable. I--I'd rather be out alone on the downs in the
storm without any home at all, or--or--" Here Kitty's voice faltered,
and once more the tears brimmed up in her eyes--a most unusual
occurrence with her; but the events of the day, the storm, and the
difficulties that beset her, were proving too much for her.

Fanny, hearing the break in her voice, looked round quickly, just in
time to see the tears, the white, tired face, and the look of dejection.
"Why, Miss Kitty," she cried, her soft heart touched at once, "don't 'ee
take it like that. Why, 'tisn't nothing to fret about; it'll all come
right again, my dear," and she put her big red arm round her little
mistress, and drew her head down to rest on her shoulder. But Kitty,
completely overcome now, shook her head mournfully.

"No, it won't, Fanny; it is too late now. Aunt Pike is to come and live
here to look after us. Father says we must have some one, and--and I
think he is right. I don't seem able to manage things, everything goes
just as I don't want it to," and the tears brimmed over again and fell
on Fanny's shoulder.