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CHAPTER VII.
AN OUTRAGEOUS PROPOSAL

"HOW interested you look, Cecil!" said Maurice.

The four boys were all waiting at the little station of Hazlewick when Cecil alighted on the platform.

"You look jolly well," interrupted Jimmy.

"Yes, I feel as well as possible," said Cecil.

"Then give us a hug, do," said Teddy.

He flung his arms roughly round his sister's neck, pushing her hat crooked and disarranging her black necktie.

"Oh, I say, how red your cheeks are!" said Charlie. "London must be a jolly healthy place; you were as white as a sheet when you went there, and now you've come back with your eyes shining, and your cheeks like apples. I say, had you lots of fun? What sort is the old lady? Did she give you a good time, and have you brought us back anything?"

"Yes; I have a parcel here," said Cecil.

"I say! gimini! crikey! golluptious!" burst from Teddy's lips. He instantly began to dance a hornpipe, and Jimmy rushed down the platform, head over heels, to the distress and agony of several passengers.

"Oh, do come out of this, boys!" said Cecil. "How can I say anything to you in the midst of all this noise? Yes, I have news. I'm afraid it's rather selfish news – I mean it is very good for me; but – but you may not like it at present. Whether anything can come of it or not rather depends on the way you take it. Oh, I will tell you after tea; you must have patience till then – you really must."

"When is that parcel to be opened?" asked Charlie. "We can wait for the news, if you will only open the parcel. I say, let's sit by the hedge and get that part done. The news will keep, if you let us see what you've brought us, Cecil. Oh, I say, do have pity on a fellow! My skull will burst if I'm exposed to suspense another moment."

"Nonsense, boy!" said Maurice. He gave a quick glance at his sister, who, under all her excitement, looked tired. "It was awfully good of Ceci to bring anything back, and you're not even to smell the contents of this parcel until she wishes it opened. Come, you know me, you three rascals – so no more words."

Jimmy made a face, Teddy gave a heart-rending sigh, and Charlie danced in front of the rest of the party.

"Oh, I'll be good!" said Charlie; "I'll be as good as gold, and Ceci will have mercy then; won't you, Ceci? I do hope you've brought me a knife, Cecil – a knife with two blades, and a corkscrew, and one of those things for picking stones out of horses' feet; that's the sort of knife I want. Ben Lester has a knife of that sort, and I bet him sixpence I'd have one before the month was out. You've got me a knife, haven't you, Cecil?"

"Shut up!" growled Maurice. "Take my arm, Cecil. Now, boys, you can run on in front. Tell Miss Marshall that Cecil is back, and ask her to make the tea; and hark, don't you make a row, or I'll punch your ears. Now, off the whole three of you!"

The younger boys rushed on, and Cecil was alone with Maurice.

He was tall for his age; he had broad shoulders and an upright carriage. Cecil found his young, strong arm full of support. She leaned on it gladly, but while she did so, a thrill of pain went through her heart. Had she any right to leave the boys? Could she leave them? Was she not selfish in putting this great chance, which was so unexpectedly offered her, before her duty to the boys? Cecil's mind had been tormented with doubts all the way home, and now, as she leaned on Maurice and walked toward Miss Marshall's lodgings, these doubts seemed to get worse than ever.

"You don't look so well as you did five minutes ago," said Maurice, glancing at her.

"I am very happy, and yet I am very much worried," she said. "Mrs. Lavender sent for me to make a most astounding proposal. I will tell you frankly, Maurice, that it took my breath away yesterday; and I could think of nothing but myself, and the delight of the whole thing. But to-day, and especially since I have seen your dear old face, I fear – I greatly fear – that I shall only be a selfish girl if I think of it."

"No; that I'm sure you won't," said Maurice heartily. "Just tell me what it is before you talk to the other boys. We needn't discuss it, but I may as well think it over while we are having tea."

"You're such an old brick, Maurice," said his sister. "I do declare you've got an old head on young shoulders."

"I'd need to have," said Maurice, with a sigh; "those boys are enough to worry any fellow sometimes – oh, not that I mean to complain; it is nothing at all to what you have to bear. Now, out with your news, Cecil."

"I don't see how it's to be done," said Cecil, turning pale.

Maurice stopped abruptly.

"Out with it before we go a step farther," he said. "Now, then. Why, Cecil, you're trembling, old girl!"

"I am," said Cecil, tears suddenly filling her eyes. "It means so much, and I'm tempted."

"Those young rascals will be back if you're not quick, Ceci."

"Well, here it is then, Maurice; here's the subtle temptation. Mrs. Lavender wants to make me a present of five hundred pounds."

"I say!" exclaimed Maurice.

"Yes – five hundred pounds; she wants to give it to me now for my education. She wants me to go to Redgarth, where Molly is, you know, Maurice. She wants me to join Molly at St. Dorothy's. She will pay all my expenses out of this sum of money, and will allow me ten pounds a term for pocket-money. That is the proposal, Maurice, and it dazzles me – and I'm weak, and I long to take it; but – but, – oh, Maurice, darling, don't look at me with your grave eyes like that, – do you think I'll desert you? No, no – never, never!"

"Stuff!" said Maurice abruptly. He turned his head away; he didn't speak at all for a moment.

"You are angry with me, Maurice, for even speaking about it," said Cecil; "but I promise – yes, I promise! the look on your face is enough. Don't think of it again, dearest, and the younger boys need never know."

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Maurice. "You will forgive me for being a little bit stunned, just for a minute, Cecil. I never thought of life without you just at present, but if you think I'm going to be such a brute as to stand in your way – Oh, I say, Cecil, don't talk to the boys to-night. Let us wait until the morning. I must arrange my ideas. Why, the whole thing is just splendid, Cecil! Think of you, educated as you ought to be! Why, we none of us have talents like you."

"Oh, yes! you have, Maurice."

"No, I haven't; not a bit of it. Oh, I don't pretend I'm stupid, or any humbug of that sort, but I'm not like you. Give you advantages and you'd set the Thames on fire. Yes, now, that's the very word. Listen to me now, Cecil; don't say a word to the other fellows until you and I have had a conference and put this thing straight. Promise – we're just home."

"Maurice, you're the dearest fellow in all the world."

"Not a bit of it, only I've got common sense, and I know when a good thing is offered to us all. Now, here we are. Well, you lads, is the tea ready?"

Tea was a very joyous and exciting meal. Even the knowledge that Mrs. Rogers was in the house could not keep the boys from shouting with laughter, and expending their wit on that crooked and bulging brown paper parcel which Cecil had brought back from London with her. Maurice was one of the gayest of the group. When Maurice gave himself away, as the other boys phrased it, they felt that the cords of discipline were thoroughly relaxed; they were almost too excited to eat, and Cecil, in spite of herself, could not help joining in their mirth.

Immediately after tea, however, Maurice got up and prepared to leave the room.

"Where are you off to?" said Jimmy. "She'll open the parcel now. What in the world are you going away for?"

"Oh, I'll be back soon," said Maurice. "You can give the boys those things, Cecil. If you have thought of me, keep it. I will see what it is when I come back."

"Well, of all the rum starts – " began Teddy.

But Maurice slammed the door behind him, and a moment later was seen marching down the street. He walked quickly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his cap pulled over his eyes. Presently he reached an ugly and very unpretentious house, which stood a little back from the Grammar School. He rang the bell vigorously. His summons was attended to by a little man with a shock of red hair and a freckled face. The little man had humorous blue eyes, a stern mouth, lantern jaws, and a chin which testified to the extreme obstinacy of his character.

"Now, what have you come about, Ross?" he said. "I really can't be bothered at this hour. I've been working with you boys all day, and it's monstrous to have a man's time taken up out of school hours. No; if you want me to tell you anything about your Latin translation, or that passage in Homer which you made such a mess of this morning, I won't; so there!"

"I want nothing of the kind," said Maurice. "You can scold me when I make you angry, Mr. Danvers. I want to speak to you for a moment. May I come in?"

Mr. Danvers had only opened his door from four to five inches while he was expostulating with Maurice. Now he flung it open with a sort of snarl, and said:

"Come in, if you wish to; come in, if you insist. This is my parlor, bedroom, kitchen, all in one. A pretty cheerful-looking apartment, is it not?"

"It's all right," said Maurice. "I haven't come to see your room, but to see you."

"Well, well; find a chair if you can, lad. I was frizzling bacon when you came in. Do you mind if I go on with it?"

"Let me help," said Maurice.

"Preserve us, no! I like my bacon done to a turn. Hands off, youngster! You can talk to me while I am eating my supper."

Maurice lounged against the window-sill. There was literally not a disengaged seat in the room. Mr. Danvers had described it as kitchen, bedroom, parlor, but it was also, and above all these things, library. Books on the floor, books crowding the bookcases, books in heaps on the windowsill, books on the bed, books on every table and every chair, marked all too vividly the tastes of John Danvers, the classical master of the Grammar School, the most hard-headed, soft-hearted, irascible-tempered, touchiest, most generous man in the whole of Hazlewick.

"Now, then, Ross, you can state your business," said Danvers, as he munched his bacon with appetite. "Do you see that pile of exercise books there? I've got to look through them all between now and ten o'clock. They are every one of them the choice productions of idiotic asses, so you may imagine the treat which lies before me. Now then, Ross, speak out."

"I'd best plump it," said Maurice. "I want to know, Mr. Danvers, if you'll board me and my three brothers? Don't say 'no,' till you think it over. We won't be any trouble, and you've heaps of room in this house."

When Maurice made this astounding proposal, Mr. Danvers' face became a study. His mouth opened until it formed itself into a round O; his blue eyes twinkled with the queerest mixture of anger and uncontrollable mirth. He was in the act of helping himself to a delicious morsel of frizzled bacon; he kept his fork suspended in mid air.

"Please don't speak for a minute," said Maurice, whose face was crimson. "I knew you'd funk it; I knew you'd hate it; I know perfectly well it would be beastly for you. All the same, I want you to do it; it will be beastly for us too, but I want you to do it. Yes, you shall do it, because – because – "

"Your reasons, lad?" said John Danvers.

He sprang to his feet, pushed aside his meal with a clatter, walked to the door, turned the key in it, and then strode up to where Maurice was, half sitting, half lounging.

"Now, out with your reasons, and be quick!" he said. "I don't want my bacon spoiled and my evening spoiled; I'll turn you out of this room, you young rascal, if you're not quick! Why am I to turn my life into an inferno? Now, be quick; out with your thought, lad!"

Mr. Danvers' last sentence was spoken with a certain softening of voice which encouraged Maurice to proceed.

"I'm desperate," he said, "and desperate people come to desperate resolves. It is for Cecil; she's the best girl in all the world, and the cleverest; but she's not half educated. She was at a school, not a tip-top school, but just a middling sort of place. I wish now she'd gone to a decent High School, but mother didn't like High Schools, and anyhow, there she is, nearly eighteen, with more talents than all the rest of us put together, but shut out of everything, because she hasn't got certificates, and all that sort of rot. Well, she's got a chance; an old lady, a friend of ours, wants to pay her expenses at Redgarth College. Perhaps you've heard of Redgarth, Mr. Danvers?"

"I have, and of Miss Forester," said John Danvers. "Women are being taken more and more out of their sphere day by day. Go on, boy – your ideas amuse me; so I'm to enter purgatory for the sake of a girl. Go on, pray!"

"No," said Maurice; "I wish I were the same age as you, sir, or you were the same age as me, and we'd fight this out, not for the sake of a girl in the ordinary sense of the word, but because of the best sister a fellow ever had, and we want to give her a chance – at least I do."

"And you propose to send me to a lunatic asylum?"

"Not quite; we wouldn't be as bad as that. You own the whole of this house, don't you?"

"What's that to you, you young dog?"

"Yes; but don't you?"

"Fact, Maurice Ross; I also own a digestive system, which is going to be put frightfully out of gear by this night's work."

"Oh, I wish you'd take the matter seriously. We boys want a bedroom, and any ramshackle sort of place to work in. I engage, on my honor, to keep the three younger lads in order. I know a bit of cooking, and we can manage our own meals, and we can pay you for every scrap of expenses you are put to, and you can have a bit of profit over and above."

"You can leave the profit out, young Ross."

"Well," said Maurice, "will you, or won't you? Will you make yourself beastly miserable for the sake of a brave girl? She can't help being a girl, but she can help being brave, and she is – oh, you don't know how plucky she is. It puts me to shame the way she works, and the way she denies herself. Do you know what she's got in the back of her head? To send me to Oxford by and by, to make a man of me, and to provide a comfortable home for the other boys when they are older and need it more. I couldn't ask a woman to put herself out to give Cecil this chance, but I thought a man might, if he were worth the name."

"Upon my word, you're pretty frank, you British schoolboy," said Danvers; but his eyes danced again, and he ceased to cast loving glances in the direction of his bacon.

"Will you, or won't you?" said Maurice; "that's just it? You needn't deliberate – you can say a frank 'yes' or 'no.' I don't pretend you'll like it – of course you won't; but maybe – Oh, I don't want to cant, but if there's anything in those words, 'It is more blessed – '"

"I know 'em; you needn't finish them," interrupted Danvers. "It's 'yes' or 'no,' then. What a queer world this is! Here am I, bullied by one of the boys in my class, a young ruffian who murders his Homer, and nearly turns my brain over his Virgil; he comes and beards me in my own private den, with the most astounding, outrageous, unheard-of proposal – and it's 'yes' or 'no' with the monkey. What will you do if I say 'no,' sir?"

"I'll be as I was before," answered Maurice; "but you won't, sir."

"I won't! Is that the way you take it?"

"No, sir; I see yielding in your face. I wouldn't have come to another master in the whole school."

"You needn't blarney me, Ross; blarney is the last straw. Now, you've stated the fact from your point of view. Allow me to tell you what this will mean to me. Lunacy, an asylum, in three months. Tell me to my face, is there a girl living who is worth that?"

"It won't be all that," said Maurice, with one of his slow smiles; "and Cecil is worth nearly that."

There was a look in Maurice's eyes just then, that made Danvers turn his head aside.

"Upon my word, there must be something in the girl," he said to himself. "What a lad this is, after all!"

Aloud he said, after a brief pause, "And suppose I agree?"

"Cecil will be perfectly happy and contented."

"But she doesn't know me, and I never laid eyes on her in my life."

"Oh, yes, you did! you must. She goes to church with us every Sunday."

"I never look at women when I can help it," said Danvers. "I keep my eyes on my book in church, and when your head master preaches, I shut them; no, I don't go to sleep, so you needn't wink, you dog! I can think better with my eyes shut."

"Well, at any rate," said Maurice, "Cecil knows about you; she knows we'd be safe with you."

Danvers uttered a deep groan.

"Oh, get out of this, Ross," he said; "don't let me see your face again until to-morrow at school, so out you go – quick – run – get out of my presence! A pretty nut you've given me to crack."

CHAPTER VIII.
MR. DANVERS ORDERS FURNITURE

WHEN Maurice had really left the house, John Danvers returned to his untidy, complex room, and threw open both windows.

"Stuffy," he muttered, sniffing as he spoke. "Let in plenty of air – nothing like air. Now, then, for my supper. Digestion will be all wrong to-night. Oh, good Heavens! what sin have I done, that this appalling dilemma should be presented to me? Won't think of it! Supper comes first, then all those themes. Never heard of a lad like Maurice Ross in all my life before – won't think of him. That passage in Cæsar which I read this morning is worth pondering over; meant to go to sleep on it to-night – will still. The cheek of that young beggar! won't think of him; I vow I won't! This bacon is destroyed; 'willful waste makes woeful want' – That's what comes of listening to cheeky – Won't revert to that dog."

John Danvers pushed up his red hair until it stood upright on his forehead. Then he sat plump down on the nearest chair, placed a thin hand on each knee, and gazed straight before him at all his books. He made an admirable scarecrow, sitting thus; and would have been the delight of every boy in his class, had they had the privilege of gazing at him. The bacon frizzled and burned on the pan, but he took no notice of it. Finally he put his supper away untasted, then lit his lamp, and sat down with thirty exercise books before him.

"As if this were not enough," he muttered. "For what sin am I so sorely punished? A girl wants to learn what she'd better not know, and I'm to go to Bedlam. If I were another man, I'd say 'no.' I always knew I was composite, and this proves it. I'm beastly weak; wish I weren't. Shouldn't think of it a second time, if I hadn't this abominable vein of good-nature running through me. That's the composite element which has destroyed my chance in life. For the sake of a girl – Faugh! If it were a boy indeed! I take an interest in those torturing young beggars in spite of myself, and Maurice Ross is my favorite, and he knows it, the dog! Well, I'll sleep it over. Hang it, though, I don't believe I'll sleep a wink!"

John Danvers ate no supper that night. He was quite unaware of this fact, however, himself; he also failed to correct any of the exercise books, and the boys who had made a sad hash of their Latin and Greek got off scot-free the next morning. Next day in school he avoided Maurice Ross' eye. In the afternoon he started off for a long walk by himself. It was a half-holiday, and he could do this with impunity. On his way back he called at Miss Marshall's house.

"Is Miss Ross in?" he asked of the landlady, who knew him well, for he was one of the characters of the place, and was known to be a woman-hater.

Miss Marshall ran upstairs, and came down with the information that Miss Ross was in.

"I'll see her for a moment, if she has no objection," said Danvers.

Miss Marshall led the way upstairs.

"How do you do?" said Danvers, when he found himself in the presence of the girl for whom he was to go to Bedlam.

Cecil was seated by her writing-table; there was perplexity on her face, dark rings under her eyes; her sweet mouth looked slightly fretful. The fact is, she was making up her mind to decline Mrs. Lavender's offer.

Danvers came in and stood in front of her.

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Danvers?" said Cecil, who of course knew the little man very well indeed by sight.

"No, thank you, madam; I prefer to stand."

Cecil stood also. She looked at the little classical master in some wonder.

"Fine young woman," he muttered to himself. "She'd make a capital milkmaid; education thrown away on her; women's brains are smaller than men's. Providence doesn't mean them to meddle in things too deep for them. I don't do it for her sake, not a bit of it; it's the lad, fine lad; life before him, life half over with me; old dog gives way to young dog; way of the world – way of the world."

"I wish you'd take a chair, Mr. Danvers," said poor Cecil, who thought that the little man with his red hair sticking up over his head, and his shining blue eyes, and his dogged mouth and jaw, must have taken leave of his senses.

"Not worth while, madam. I've come to say that, if you wish it, I'll house those boys, give them house-room, beds to sleep in, plenty to eat and drink. I'll take 'em for what you can afford; they'll be safe enough with me. I'm a dragon on boys, Miss Ross, a very dragon on boys. You'll be quit of 'em, I came to say it. You can fix up things with your brother Maurice; and they can come to-morrow if they like. Communicate with me through Maurice; he's a fine lad. Good-day to you, Miss Ross!"

Before Cecil had time to say a word, Danvers strode out of the room. He ran downstairs so quickly that someone might almost have propelled him from behind, and rushed out of the house as if he were shot.

"I have done it," he said, as soon as he had got into the street. He gasped as he spoke. "Good gracious!" he said; "what an awful thing it is to come face to face with a woman, and a young one, too! She's a fine girl, I don't deny it; good eyes, firm, nice mouth. She looked at me, all the same, as if she meant to eat me. Good Heavens! what a heat I'm in; this sort of thing will kill me if I have much more of it."

Danvers walked down the street; he held his head in the air, and his soft hat was well slouched back. Several people who knew him well met him, but he noticed no one. His bright, kindly blue eyes were fixed upon the kindly sky. In spite of himself, against his will, there was a glow of pure happiness at his heart. He would not acknowledge the happiness. He kept on muttering:

"John Danvers, you dog, you've let yourself in for a pretty mess! Fancy four boys, four devouring young monsters, careering over your house, rushing into your private den, shouting into your ear, dancing the devil's tattoo over your very bedroom. It's too awful to contemplate. I'll not think of it. I vow and declare I'll turn my thoughts to something else. What about that passage in Cæsar I construed last night? It's a fine thought and a comforting one. After all, there's nothing like going back to the fountain head of knowledge, and taking your ideas straight from the original well. Yes, Cæsar is good meat, nothing namby-pamby there. I mean to go on with my translation during the coming winter. What am I saying? What am I saying? What chance have I to translate anything? Bedlam without and Bedlam within will be my portion from this day forward. How blue the sky is, though! it's a fine evening. The breeze is pleasant, quite spring-like. Good Heavens! I did have a job when I stood face to face with that girl; but Maurice is a fine lad, and he's young, and he has his life before him. Shouldn't be surprised if he made a good Latin scholar yet. By the bye, didn't I see a Greek lexicon on that girl's table? Outrageous, monstrous, indecorous! A woman has no right to look into these mysteries. She's made for bread and butter and cheese and household drudgery. Some men may go to the length of considering her ornamental, but, thank Heaven! I have never so completely lost my senses. Well, I've done it, but not for the sake of a woman – no, Heaven forbid! Now, then, to complete the sacrifice."

Danvers suddenly hastened his steps; he turned abruptly into a little side street, and, stopping at the door of a second-hand warehouse, he entered in a hesitating manner. Apart from his books and boys, Danvers always exhibited nervous hesitation. The man in the shop, a person of the name of Franks, came up to greet him.

"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Danvers?" he asked.

Danvers frowned when his name was mentioned. He had not the faintest idea of the name of the owner of the shop, and nothing annoyed him more than the fact that every soul in Hazlewick seemed to know him perfectly well.

"Good-evening!" he said abruptly. "The fact is, I've called in to ask you to send in some furniture suitable for a dog's – I mean a boy's bedroom. There are four boys; the rascals – I mean the young fellows – are coming to stay with me. I want a room furnished – you'd better send a man round to look at it – the usual things, of course. Send in the furniture to-morrow. Good-evening!"

"But I beg your pardon, Mr. Danvers," said the perplexed shopman, "your order is a little vague; you have not told me what class of furniture you require."

Danvers took off his hat, and pushed up his red hair perfectly straight.

"Simple, very," he said; "no luxuries, a bed apiece, some basins and jugs; you know the sort of thing. I am in a hurry. I will wish you 'good-evening!'"

"We have got some nice iron bedsteads," began Mr. Franks, "neat and plain. I suppose carpets will be required. If you will have the goodness to step this way, sir – "

Here the shopman started, for Danvers had vanished.

"Well," he said, turning to one of his men, "if this aint a rum start! Here's our Mr. Danvers ordering in furniture, promiscuous like, and four young gentlemen are going to live with him. You tot up a tidy lot of things, Blake, and let me know what the sum total comes to; four boys, he says, and they are to be provided for simple. What does this mean?"

The assistant ran off with a laugh, and that evening a good-sized bill was entered against Mr. Danvers' name in Frank's book.

That good little man returned to his home, and after supper took out his account books. He looked carefully into his banking account, found that there stood to his credit about one hundred and fifty pounds in the local bank, wondered vaguely what all the furniture would cost, perceived that he could pay for it, and then dismissed the subject from his mind. He sat up late over his translation of Cæsar, and did excellent work. He forgot all about the boys, and slept soundly when he went to bed. On returning to his house the next day at noon, the circumstance of their speedy advent was brought painfully home to him, however. A large furniture van stood outside his modest door. Danvers kept no servant, and the men were getting impatient at having to pull the bell in vain; a crowd of small boys and girls were collected around the van, and several neighbors were poking their heads out of the adjacent windows. Danvers felt a sudden thrill run through him. He opened the door abruptly, and told the men to take the things upstairs.

"To what room, sir?" they asked.

"Any room," he answered.

He rushed into his private sanctum, and locked the door with violence. In this refuge he had a violent tussle with his temper. The tramping of strange feet was heard all over the hitherto silent house. The poor little man sat down on the nearest chair, and looked the very picture of abject misery. He was far too unhappy even to think of dinner. By and by, the sounds of alien feet died away. The men slammed the door behind them, and drove off in the now empty furniture van; the rabble of boys and girls melted out of sight. Danvers was beginning to breathe, when a somewhat timid ring was heard at the front door. His smoldering ire burst forth afresh; he strode to open it with his spectacles on the middle of his forehead. A stout, elderly woman was standing on the steps; she dropped a profound courtesy.

"Your business!" he said abruptly.

"If you please sir, I've come to offer for the situation."

"What do you mean?"

"Seeing as you're expecting company, sir, and it's known that the place is vacant – "

"There is no place vacant," interrupted Danvers; "you can go. I don't require your services."

He slammed the door rudely, and went back to his parlor.

The stout woman's appearance, however, had set him thinking; he saw a fresh woe ahead of him. He had taken steps to furnish a room for the boys, but who was to cook their breakfast, and dinner, and supper, and make their beds, and in short do the sort of things which women, in his opinion, were sent into the world for?

"It grows worse and worse," he muttered. "It simply resolves itself into this: I must not only have four boys driving me to Bedlam, but the she element must be introduced into my house – a charwoman! To this pass have I come. 'Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all is vanity.'"