scorn at the whole family.

He was out of the house most of the day, came down to breakfast when every
one else had finished, and often was not present at dinner in the evening.
The Archdeacon had said that breakfast was not to be kept for him, but
nevertheless breakfast was there, on the table, however late he was. The
cook and, indeed, all the servants adored him because, I suppose, he had
no sense of class-difference at all and laughed and joked with any one if
he was in a good temper. All these first days he spoke scarcely one word
to Joan; it was as though the whole family were in his black books for
some disgraceful act--they were the guilty ones and not he.

Joan blamed herself for feeling so light-hearted and gay during this
family crisis, but she could not help it. A very short time ago the
knowledge that battle was engaged in the very heart of the house would
have made her miserable and apprehensive, but now it seemed to be all
outside her and unconnected with her as though she had a life of her own
that no one could touch. Her courage seemed to grow with every half-hour
of her life. Some months passed, and then one morning she came into the
drawing-room and found her mother rather bewildered and distressed.

"Oh dear, I really don't know what to do!" said her mother.

It was so seldom that Joan was appealed to for advice that her heart now
beat with pride.

"What's the matter, mother?" she asked, trying to look dignified and
unconcerned.

Mrs. Brandon looked at her with a frightened and startled look as though