hadn't enough money to pay the silver man for taking out the dents and
scratches. The new spoons and forks were yellowy-white, and not so
heavy as the old ones, and they never shone after the first day or two.

Father was very ill after Mother died; and while he was ill his
business-partner went to Spain--and there was never much money
afterwards. I don't know why. Then the servants left and there was only
one, a General. A great deal of your comfort and happiness depends on
having a good General. The last but one was nice: she used to make
jolly good currant puddings for us, and let us have the dish on the
floor and pretend it was a wild boar we were killing with our forks. But
the General we have now nearly always makes sago puddings, and they are
the watery kind, and you cannot pretend anything with them, not even
islands, like you do with porridge.

Then we left off going to school, and Father said we should go to a good
school as soon as he could manage it. He said a holiday would do us all
good. We thought he was right, but we wished he had told us he couldn't
afford it. For of course we knew.

Then a great many people used to come to the door with envelopes with no
stamps on them, and sometimes they got very angry, and said they were
calling for the last time before putting it in other hands. I asked
Eliza what that meant, and she kindly explained to me, and I was so
sorry for Father.

And once a long, blue paper came; a policeman brought it, and we were so
frightened. But Father said it was all right, only when he went up to
kiss the girls after they were in bed they said he had been crying,
though I'm sure that's not true. Because only cowards and snivellers