two good children?" and Duke and Pamela were eagerly drawing in their
chairs when another question from Grandmamma suddenly reminded them of
what they had for the time forgotten. "You ate your breakfast nicely
upstairs, I hope? Did you finish all the bread and milk?"

Brother looked at sister and sister looked at brother. Both grew rosier
than usual, but Grandmamma, though fairly quick of hearing, was somewhat
near-sighted. Pamela touched Duke without the old lady seeing, and
_looked_ what he understood--"Let us tell, Duke." But Duke would not
allow himself to think he did understand. The tea and the honey
sandwiches were so tempting!

"The bowls were quite empty, Grandmamma," he said. And Grandmamma, who
had wondered a little at their hesitation in answering, seemed relieved.
For, kind as she was, "rules were rules," to Grandmamma's thinking; and,
though it would have pained her more than the children, she would
certainly have thought it right to send them upstairs treatless had the
answer been different.

"That is well," she said cheerfully, and then the two climbed on to
their chairs and drew their cups and plates close to them; while
Grandmamma went round to her own end of the table, where--for she was a
very tiny little old lady--she was almost hidden from view by the large
silver tea-urn. She went on talking to Grandpapa, and the children set
to work at what was before them. They were quite silent; not that they
ever thought of really speaking, except when "spoken to," at their
grandparents' table, but no little whispers or smiles passed between
themselves as usual; they ate on solemnly, and _somehow_--how was
it?--the honey sandwiches did not taste quite as delicious as they had
expected. But though each had the same sort of disappointed feeling,