Meg had betaken herself to the drawing-room, and was sitting on the
floor before the music canterbury with scissors, thimble, and a
roll of narrow blue ribbon on her knee, and all her father's songs,
that he so often complained were falling to pieces, spread out
before her.

He saw her once as he passed the door, and looked surprised and
pleased.

"Thank you, Margaret: they wanted it badly. I am glad you can
make yourself useful, after all," he said.

"Yes, Father."

Meg stitched on industriously.

He went batik to his study, where Pip's head was at a studious,
absorbed angle, and pyramids of books and sheaves of paper were
on the table. He wrote two more letters, and there came a little
knock at the door.

"Come in," he called; and there entered Nell.

She was carrying very carefully a little tray covered with a
snow-white doyley, and on it were a glass of milk and a plate
of mulberries. She placed it before him.

"I thought perhaps you would like a little lunch, Father," she
said gently; and Pip was seized with a sudden coughing fit.