“But, Nan! You’ve known all along I must go to the schoolhouse this morning early!”

“You needn’t ‘but, Nan’ me, young lady. You’re not in a position to say ‘must’ to anyone in this house. If Mother chose to let you act the independent lady, that was her affair, but she’s not here now, and you’re a dependent. It’s time you realized that. I say I’m going to town this morning, and you’ll have to stay at home.”

Nannette had sailed off upstairs with the parting words, and Eugene went on reading his paper as if he had not heard the altercation. For a moment, Joyce contemplated an appeal to him, but one glance at the forbidding eyebrows over the top of the morning paper made her change her mind. There was little hope to be had from an appeal to him. He had never liked her, and she had never liked him. It dated back to the time when she caught him deceiving his mother and he dared her to tell on him. She had not told—it had not seemed a matter that made it necessary—but he hated her for knowing he was not all that his mother thought him. Besides, he was much older than she and had a bullying nature. Her clear, young eyes annoyed him. She represented conscience in the concrete, his personal part of which he had long ago throttled. He did not like to be reminded of conscience, and, too, he had always been jealous of his mother’s love for Joyce.

Joyce glanced with troubled eyes at the clock.

She was due at the schoolhouse at nine thirty. Gene would take the 8:19 train to town, and Nan would likely go with him.

There would be time after they left to pack lunches for the children if she hurried. Nan didn’t like them to take their lunch, but Nan would have to stand it this time, for she meant to take that examination. She shut her lips tightly and began to remove the breakfast things from the table swiftly and quietly, leaving a plate for Junior, who would be sure to be down late.

Her mind was struggling with the insults that had been flung at her. She had always known that she and her cousins were not compatible, but such open words of affront had never been given to her before, although the last few days since the funeral there had been glances and tones of contempt that hurt her. She had tried to be patient, hoping soon to be in a position where she would no longer be dependent upon her relatives.

There was some wrangling between Junior and his sister before Nan and Gene left for the train, and Joyce had been obliged to leave her work to settle the dispute; and again after they were gone, she had to stop spreading the bread for the lunches and hunt for Junior’s cap and Dorothea’s arithmetic. It was a breathless time at the end, getting the lunches packed and the children off to school. She met with no opposition from them about taking their lunches, for they loved to do it, but they insisted on two slices apiece of jelly roll, which so reduced the amount left in the cake box that Joyce added “jelly roll” to the numerous things she must do when she got back from her examination.

But at last she saw them run off together down the street, and she was free to rush to her room, smooth her hair, and slip into her dark blue serge dress. It remained to be seen how much time there would be left for the cellar when she got home. But whatever came, she must get those examinations done.

When she was halfway downstairs, she ran back and picked up a few little treasured trinkets from her upper bureau drawer, sweeping them into her bag, some things that Aunt Mary had given her, a bit of real lace, some Christmas handkerchiefs, one or two pieces of jewelry—things that she prized and did not want handled. Both Dorothea and her mother seemed to consider they had a perfect right to rummage in her bureau drawers, and the day before, Joyce had come upon Nan just emerging from her closet door as if she had been looking things over there.

It was not that the girl had anything of much value, but there were a few little things that seemed sacred to her because of their association, and she could not bear to have them handled over contemptuously by her cousin. Nan might return sooner than she expected and would be sure to come to her room to look for her. It would only anger her if she found the door locked, and anyhow the spare room key fit her lock also. There was no privacy to be had in the house since Aunt Mary’s death.

Joyce closed and locked the house carefully, placing the key in its usual place of hiding at the top of the porch pillar under the honeysuckle vine, and hurried down the street toward the school building. She registered a deep hope that she might get home in time to do a good deal of work in the cellar before Nan arrived, but she meant to try to forget the cellar and Nan and everything till her examinations were over.

At the schoolhouse she found to her dismay that the schedule had been changed and that three of her tests came successively that day. There would be no chance of getting through before half past three, perhaps later. Nan would be angry, but it could not be helped for this once.