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"You do? How interesting! I, too, attempt to write silly stuff."

"That's wonderful! Wonderful! I must read some of your work."

"Oh, no! Never. It's merely rhyme, not real poetry ... " Look!

Uncle . there. "

They turned towards the table to see the boy holding out a sheet of paper. Timothy took it, and looked at the drawing and exclaimed in admiration, "Oh! yes. Yes; that is a cat."

"It isn't, Uncle; I've changed it into a dog. Don't you know the difference?"

Timothy looked at Anna.

"I am stupid," he said, "I am the most stupid fellow on this earth. I must go away now and look up books and learn to know the difference between a dog and a cat." Then, turning to the boy again he said, "You can laugh. You can laugh heartily like that, but everyone isn't able to draw like you can. I must be away now, I really must. Be a good boy. Goodbye. I'll pop in tomorrow, if I may?"

He glanced towards Anna, then said, "Goodbye, Miss Dagshaw."

"Goodbye, Mr. Barrington ... She was sitting at the table again guiding the child's hand to make the capital D, while saying to herself. What a nice man. And to be stricken like he is. It isn't fair. Oh yes, it was true, as the nurse had said, there were kind people in this house.

And those same words she repeated later on that evening, while sitting with the family round the fire, telling them of her experiences during the day. However, she omitted that part of the interview with the mistress when she was asked, "How long have you known my husband?"

There was a meaning in those words, she knew, which would have upset her parents.

"She sounds a bitch," was Oswald's opinion, and this was confirmed by Jimmy: "She's got that name all round," he said; 'she doesn't care what she rides over. She went straight through the turnip field. She thinks she can do owl she likes on the land because the farm's rented from them. But Mr. Billings went to the house and had a stop put to it.

Some say she must drink, but I don't think so, because she's like that first thing in the morning. I've seen her riding to the moor, braying the horse with her whip as she goes, and it giving its best. ' Also, it wasn't until they were in bed that she said to Cherry, "Mr. Timothy asked after you," and Cherry said, "Did he? Did he now? Isn't that nice of him." Then she added, "Why didn't you say so before?" and Anna replied, "Well, it would have sounded as if he was singling you out; he hadn't particularly asked after the boys or Ma or Dada. He called you cheery; I thought he was saying Cherry."

"Ooh!"

"Now, now; don't get ideas."

"Who's getting ideas? Don't be silly; he's an oldish man and the poor soul is ... well, you know ... But it was nice of him to ask after me."

They lay quiet for a moment; then Cherry asked, "Do you think you'll ever fall in love like Dada and Ma did?"

Again there was a pause before Anna answered, "There are very few men like Dada about, so I doubt it. What about you?"

"I doubt it too; but I wish there were, at times, I wish there were."

Anna didn't take her sister's words up an "Yes, so do I," she said,

"Go on, turn round and sleep. It's late, and the morning will be here 1 we know where we are."

Anna had hardly begun the lesson the next morning when the door was opened unceremoniously and Simon entered. And when the child ran to him, crying, "Oh, Papa! Papa! Have you come to take me for a ride?"

he patted the boy's head, saying, "No, not this morning. But come."

He held out a hand and drew the child towards the door leading into the old nurse's sitting-room and, opening it, he called, "Are you there.

Nanny? " And when, getting up from her chair, the old woman said, "

Oh, yes, I'm here. Master Simon. And you're up afore your clothes are on, aren't you? What is it? "

"Keep the boy with you for a few moments will you, please?"

"Yes. Yes. Come here my dear, come here."

Simon pressed the boy towards her, then closed the door and, now turning to Anna, he said, "Good morning."

She was standing by the table and it was a moment or two before she answered, "Good morning giving as much emphasis to the words as he had done.

He walked up the room and from across the table he began to explain why he had interrupted the lesson.

"I didn't return until eight last evening, when I was informed that you were subjected to some annoyance yesterday."

"Oh, please. Please. It is over. Perhaps it was partly my fault. You see, I ... I have never been in service and therefore I'm not acquainted with the procedure."

"Oh." The words came out on a long slow breath, and he dropped down on to the child's stool, at the same time pointing to her chair and saying, "Sit down. Sit down." Then, after a moment during which he gazed down on the blocks from which his son had been learning his letters, he said, "If you are to remain here, or, I should say, come daily and teach the boy, then I'm afraid that sooner or later you will be subjected, I am sorry to say, to my wife's temper. I am speaking to you now as I would to no other member of the staff in this house.

They, of course, are used to her manner, they don't need to have it explained, and so I am relieved of the embarrassment. "Please, please, don't continue. I have no wish to cause you embarrassment. I understand the situation. Should your wife wish to see me in the future I will endeavour not to arouse her are in any way. I ... I am not without fault; I have the unfortunate knack of speaking my mind and I have not as yet learned to be subservient."

She watched his face now break into a smile and his head wag for a moment before he said, "Oh, Miss Dagshaw, you will, I think, in your life achieve many things, but subservience, never. You are your father's daughter, if not your mother's, and they certainly have always been anything but

subservient to opinions or gossip. And from what I gather, there's another strike impending and your father is likely to arouse the wrath of the coal gods by sheltering some of the outcasts. "

She stared at him. This family owned shares in the Beulah mine his brother saw to the running of it, so she understood and yet, here he was, speaking disparagingly of it. This was a strange house, a strange family, all at odds. And she was finding it hard to understand, for she had been brought up among eight people who thought as one about most things.

He was saying, "How are you getting on with the boy?"

"Oh, it's early days yet; in fact, merely hours, but I find him most receptive and bright, and he's a' she paused 'warm, loving character."

Again his head was moving, but slowly now as he repeated, "A warm, loving character. Strange, that."

It seemed that the next instant he was standing on his feet, so promptly had he risen from the table.

"My mother would like to see you sometime later today," he said.

"She is an invalid, you know, but I can assure you that your interview will be different from your experience of yesterday."

She made no reply, and he stood looking at her for a moment before he said, and quietly, "I'm ... I'm glad you're here ... I mean, to see to my son. Also that you find him of a warm and loving disposition."

Something puzzled her about these last words as she now watched him walk towards the far door, open it and say in quite a loud voice.

"Well, back to work! young sir.

Back to the grindstone! "

"Oh, Papa, Papa, did teacher show you my drawing?"

"No. No, she didn't. And Andrew' he bent down to him' you must call your teacher " Miss" not just " teacher". Miss Dagshaw."

"Miss Dog ... shaw?"

"No; Dagshaw."

Anna had come down the room and, looking at the child, she said, "I think it is too much of a mouthful: " Miss" will do."

"What is your Christian name?"

She paused before she said, "Anna, Annabel. I'm usually called Anna."

"Well he had turned to his son again' you will say Miss Anna."

"Mis ... sanna?"

"No. Pronounce it correctly. Not Mis ... sanna, Miss Anna."

The child now said on a laugh, "Missanna."

"Oh dear me!" He looked at Anna, saying, "You'll have to work on that one, Missanna."

She smiled at him, then held out her hand to the boy, and as they went up the room she heard the door close and his voice, subdued now, talking to his old nurse.

It was two o'clock when Betty Carter again entered the schoolroom unceremoniously. Standing just within the door, she looked to where Anna was sitting at the table going through some books and she said,

"Madam wants to see ya."

Anna dosed two books and placed them on top of a small pile, before she got to her feet and walked towards the girl, saying, "Thank you.

If you will lead the way. "

On the landing, before following Betty Carter, she gently pushed open a door and looked at her charge taking his afternoon nap; then, closing the door gently again, she walked towards where the girl was standing impatiently at the top of the stair head. Once down the stairs, this impatience showed itself further when her hurrying step became almost a trot, and when Anna did not follow likewise, the maid stopped abruptly in the gallery, muttering, "Anything the matter with your legs?"

Anna did not answer, she just looked into the narrow plain face, and with a gesture of her hand told her to go on, which in no way placated her guide, for the girl now glared at her, opened her mouth as if to let her have it, decided against doing so and went down the main staircase at a rush and so into a large hall which appeared dim even with the light from two tall windows, one at each side of a glass-framed partition, leading to what she imagined to be a vestibule and the front door proper.

The girl now nodded towards two male servants who were standing surveying them, then carried on through what, to Anna, appeared to be a maze of corridors before stopping at an embossed, grey- painted door.

Having rung the bell to the side of it, the girl stood facing the door until it was opened by a woman to whom she said under her breath,

"Madam wants to see her."

The elderly maid looked over her informant's shoulder at the slim young person standing erect;

then, turning her attention to Betty Carter again, she said, "Very well. We'll call you when you're wanted."

The girl, after throwing a sidelong glance in Anna's direction, walked quickly away, and the older woman said, "Will you come in, please?"

The tone was pleasant, the smile was pleasant; it was as if she had entered a different house; and this was confirmed when the maid escorted her across a hall, this too painted in a pretty grey colour, then into a small sitting-room, where a woman, dressed in a nurse's uniform, had just entered from a far door. And she stopped and looked at Anna for a moment, then said with a smile, "Will you come this way, please? Madam will see you now."

As she entered the large room, Anna immediately took in the furnishings: first, that there was a lot of furniture; and then that the bed was placed near the tall window at the far end; but it was the couch in the middle of the room and facing another large window that drew and held her attention. Perhaps it was not so much a couch as a bed, for lying on it was a figure, with the head resting on a single pillow.

The nurse now led her to the foot of this bed and from there she looked at the pale face topped by a mass of white hair, and was immediately struck by the brightness of the eyes. They were large eyes, what she would call intelligent eyes: all the life that should have been in the body was in them. They did not move over her but were riveted on her face.

And then the person spoke, and to Anna's further amazement the voice was as alive as the eyes when it said, "Bring Miss Dagshaw a chair, please, nurse."

A chair was brought, and Anna thanked the nurse and sat down, and once more she looked up the length of the inert body to where the head was moving slightly now, which movement brought the nurse to the bed, saying quietly, "Would you like to be raised, madam?"

"Yes. Yes, I would, just a little."

The nurse crossed the room to a door, opened it and spoke to someone.

And now there came into the room a man in a white overall and he went straight to the head of the couch and began to wind a handle.

When the lady said, "Three turns. Mason," the bed slowly tilted, and now it seemed to Anna as if she and the invalid were at eye level.

"That's it. Thank you. And, nurse, will you please tell Miss Rivers that I shall need her in about five minutes."

"Yes, madam."

Anna was aware that they now had the room to themselves.

"How are you finding my grandson?"

"I find him an apt pupil, madam, and of a nice disposition."

"And of a nice disposition?"

"Oh, yes, madam, a very pleasing disposition."

"How do you intend to instruct him?"

Anna paused before she answered: "Well, madam," she said, "I think he should become acquainted with the whole of the alphabet, and that he should be able to count up ... but gradually, to a hundred, during which time he will be doing little addition sums and also putting his letters into one-syllable words."

"That seems very practical and will lead to when he is due to have a tutor ... I understand you have been educated by your father?"

"Yes, madam."

"How did he instruct you?"

Again Anna paused before she said, "Mainly through reading, just reading."

"Just reading?"

"Yes, madam. He is a great reader."

"What did he advise you to read?"

"History, geography, and literature."

"Literature? What books did you read?"

"Well, madam, the ones I remember most are those of Mr. Daniel Defoe and Dean Swift. He first told us the stories, then would get the older ones in my family to read parts aloud--' her lips moved into a smile as she added, 'pretending that he had forgotten a particular section."

"Have you many books?"

"Not as many as we would like, madam."

"We have a good library here; you have my permission to take the loan of whatever you need."