ou'll never go
anywhere where there's anybody named George if I can prevent it."

"I--I don't want to," she returned, almost ready to cry. "You are very
cruel to me----"

"I wish to be. I desire to be a monster!" he retorted fiercely. "You're
an exceedingly bad, ungrateful, undutiful, disobedient and foolish child.
Your sisters and I are going to motor to Westchester and lunch there with
your sister and your latest brother-in-law. And if they ask why you
didn't come I'll tell them that it's because you're undutiful, and that
you are not to stir outdoors for a week, or see anybody who comes into
this house!"

"I--I suppose I d-deserve it," she acquiesced tearfully. "I'm quite ready
to be disciplined, and quite willing not to see anybody named George--
ever! Besides, you have scared me d-dreadfully! I--I don't want to go out
of the house."

And when her father had retired with a bounce she remained alone in the
gymnasium, eyes downcast, lips quivering. Later still, sitting in
precisely the same position, she heard the soft whir of the touring car
outside; then the click of the closing door.

"There they go," she said to herself, "and they'll have such a jolly
time, and all those very agreeable Westchester young men will be there--
particularly Mr. Montmorency.... I _did_ like him awfully; besides, his
name is Julian, so it is p-perfectly safe to like him--and I _did_ want
to see how Sacharissa looks after her bridal trip."

Her lower lip trembled; she steadied it between her teeth, gazed
miserably at the floor, and beat a desolate tattoo on it with the tip of
her foil.

"I am being well paid for my disobedience," she whimpered. "Now I can't
go out for a week; and it's April; and when I do go out I'll be so
anxious all the while, peeping furtively at every man who passes and
wondering whether his name might be George.... And it is going to be
horridly awkward, too.... Fancy their bringing up some harmless dancing
man named George to present to me next winter, and I, terrified, picking
up my debutante skirts and running.... I'll actually be obliged to flee
from every man until I know his name isn't George. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
What an awful outlook for this summer when we open the house at Oyster
Bay! What a terrible vista for next winter!"

She naively dabbed a tear from her long lashes with the back of her
gauntlet.

Her maid came, announcing luncheon, but she would have none of it, nor
any other offered office