'But, Miss Hopgood, Mrs Martin had to suit all tastes; we must not be
too severe upon her.'

There was something in this remark most irritating to Clara; the word
'tastes,' for example, as if the difference between Miranda and the
chambermaid were a matter of 'taste.' She was annoyed too with
Frank's easy, cheery tones for she felt deeply what she said, and his
mitigation and smiling latitudinarianism were more exasperating than
direct opposition.

'I am sure,' continued Frank, 'that if we were to take the votes of
the audience, Miranda would be the queen of the evening;' and he put
the crown which he had brought away with him on her head again.

Clara was silent. In a few moments they were at the door of their
house. It had begun to rain, and Madge, stepping out of the carriage
in a hurry, threw a shawl over her head, forgetting the wreath. It
fell into the gutter and was splashed with mud. Frank picked it up,
wiped it as well as he could with his pocket-handkerchief, took it
into the parlour and laid it on a chair.



CHAPTER VII



The next morning it still rained, a cold rain from the north-east, a
very disagreeable type of weather on the Fenmarket flats. Madge was
not awake until late, and when she caught sight of the grey sky and