an afternoon when, arriving unexpectedly, and being left by Eliza to
find Cecilia for himself, he had the good fortune to overhear Mrs.
Rainham in one of her best efforts--a "wigging" to which Avice and
Wilfred were listening delightedly, and which included not only
Cecilia's sin of the moment, but her upbringing, her French education,
her "foreign fashion of speaking," and her sinful extravagance in
shoes. These, and other matters, were furnishing Mrs. Rainham with
ample material for a bitter discourse when she became aware of another
presence in the room, and her eloquence faltered at the sight of Bob's
astonished anger.

Mrs. Rainham did not recall with any enjoyment the interview which
followed--Cecilia and the children having been brushed out of the way
by the indignant soldier. Things which had been puzzling to Bob
were suddenly made clear--traces of distress which Cecilia had often
explained away vaguely, the children's half-contemptuous manner towards
her, even Eliza's tone in speaking of her--a queer blend of anger and
pity. Mrs. Rainham held her ground to some extent, but the brother's
questions were hard to parry, and some of his comments stung.

"Well, I'll take her away," he stormed at length. "It's evident that she
does not give you satisfaction, and she certainly isn't happy. She had
better come away with me to-day."

"Ah," said his stepmother freezingly, "and where will you take her?"

Bob hesitated.

"There are plenty of places--" he began.