“Hold your tongue, Charles,” snapped his wife. “And please understand that I will not have the creature pampered. We shall have her demanding a boudoir next, and a servant to wait on her!”
“But, my dear . . .” stammered the Baron.
“Don’t talk to me,” cried his wife, with an angry stamp of the foot. “We shall see whether or not I am to be mistress in my own house! Euphronia, take this naughty girl up into the garret, and lock her in until she comes to her senses. A few days of solitude and a diet of bread and water will do her all the good in the world.”
“Come along, you stuck-up little thing,” said Euphronia, seizing Ella’s wrist with her large bony hand. “You will have to be taught your proper place.”
And so Ella was dragged away. At the door she turned an appealing glance towards her father, but he was looking at his toes and made no movement to interfere.
The last thing Ella heard as she went up the stairs was the voice of the Baroness storming at her husband. Even when the door of the garret was slammed upon her she could still hear it, deep and booming, like the rumble of distant thunder!
