Mrs. Scrimp was a woman of economies, keeping vigilant watch over all expenditures, great and small, and employing one servant only, who was cook, housemaid, and laundress all in one, and expected to give every moment of her time to the service of her mistress, and be content with smaller wages than many who did less work.

Mrs. Scrimp was a woman of theories also, and her pet one accorded well with the aforementioned characteristic.  It was that two meals a day were sufficient for any one, and that none but the very vigorous and hard-working ought to eat anything between three o’clock in the afternoon and breakfast-time the next morning.

That was a rule to which neither Max nor Lulu could ever be made to submit; but Grace, the youngest, a delicate, fragile child, with little force of will, had no strength or power to resist, so fell a victim to the theory; each night went supperless to bed, and each day found herself too feeble and languid to take part in the active sports in which her stronger sister delighted.

It is quite possible that Mrs. Scrimp had no intention of being cruel, but merely made the not uncommon mistake of supposing that what is good for one person is of course good for everybody else.  She was dyspeptic, and insisted that she found her favorite plan exceedingly beneficial in her own case; therefore she was sure so delicate a child as Gracie ought to conform to the same regimen.

She seemed fond of the little girl, petted and caressed her, calling her by many an endearing name, and telling her very often that she was “a good, biddable child; far better than fiery-tempered, headstrong Lulu.”

Lulu would hear the remark with a scornful smile and toss of the head, sometimes saying proudly, “I wouldn’t let anybody call you names to me, Gracie; and I wouldn’t be such a little goose as to be wheedled and flattered into putting up with being half-starved.”

There had been a time when Mrs. Scrimp tried to prevent and punish such daring words, but she had given it up long since, and contented herself with sighing sadly over the “depravity of that irrepressible child.”

She had once or twice threatened to write to Captain Raymond and tell him that Lulu was unmanageable, but the child coolly replied, “I wish you would; for then papa would send Gracie and me somewhere else to stay.”

“Where you would, perhaps, fare a great deal worse,” returned Mrs. Scrimp wrathfully.

“I am willing to risk it,” Lulu said; and that was the end of it, for Mrs. Scrimp would have been very loath to lose the children’s board.

One pleasant October morning Lulu came down a trifle late to her breakfast.  Mrs. Scrimp and Gracie were already seated at the table and had began their meal.

“Lulu,” said Mrs. Scrimp with a portentous frown, “you were in the pantry last night, helping yourself.”

“Of course I was,” returned the child as she took her seat at the table.  “I told you I wouldn’t go without my supper, and you didn’t have Ann get any for me; so what could I do but go and help myself?”