"What a beautiful dream," began Anthony, but at that moment, pausing
from her labours at the beef, Mrs. Walrond said:

"Barbara, eat your duck before it grows cold. You know the doctor said
you must take plenty of nourishment."

"I am going to, mother," answered Barbara, "I feel dreadfully hungry,"
and really she did; her gentle heart having fed full, of a sudden her
body seemed to need no nourishment.

"Dear me!" said Mr. Walrond, pausing from his labours and viewing the
remains of the duck disconsolately, for he did not see what portion of
its gaunt skeleton was going to furnish him with dinner, and duck was
one of his weaknesses, "dear me, there's a dreadful smell of burning in
this room. Do you think it can be the beef, my love?"

"Of course it is not the beef," replied Mrs. Walrond rather sharply.
"The beef is beautifully done."

"Oh!" ejaculated one of the girls who had got the calcined bit, "why,
mother, you said it was burnt yourself."

"Never mind what I said," replied Mrs. Walrond severely, "especially as
I was mistaken. It is very rude of your father to make remarks about the
meat."

"Well, something _is_ burning, my love."

Janey, who was sitting next to Anthony, paused from her meal to sniff,
then exclaimed in a voice of delight: