Some Builders by Amy Le Feuvre

IT was a wild wet November afternoon. Rain and wind were making havoc of the few late flowers in Sidney's sheltered garden. Petals of dahlias, chrysanthemums, and even late roses were flying through the air; the trees and shrubs were swaying and bending under the gale, and every window and chimney in the house creaked and whistled in company with the wind outside.

The Admiral sat with his head in his hands over the study fire. He had caught a slight chill, and a bout of toothache completed his discomfort and depression. He had had words with his brother at luncheon, a most unusual occurrence, and Major Urquhart had sworn and flung out of the room, leaving his food unfinished upon his plate. It was over a trifle: the Admiral did not want some trees cut down in the garden, the Major did, and the altercation was sharp and bitter. Sidney was astonished at the Major's virulence, and when he got up from the table, he shouted: