have been like the last atom that breaks the camel's back.
I was too late for tea; but my mother had kindly kept the tea-pot and muffin warm upon the hobs, and, though she scolded me a little, readily admitted my excuses; and when I complained of the flavour of the overdrawn tea, she poured the remainder into the slop basin, and bade Rose put some fresh into the pot, and reboil the kettle, which offices were performed with great commotion, and certain remarkable comments.
"Well!—if it had been me now, I should have had no tea at all—If it had been Fergus, even, he would have had to put up with such as there was, and been told to be thankful, for it was far too good for him; but you—we can't do too much for you—It's always so—if there's anything particularly nice at table, Mamma winks and nods at me, to abstain from it, and if I don't attend to that, she whispers, 'Don't eat so much of that, Rose, Gilbert will like it for his supper'—I'm nothing at all—in the par-
