ntil
his quiver was empty.

"Mr. Ogilvie knew my father."

"That has nothing to do with the case," said Uncle Henry.

"I think it has."

"Do not be insolent, Mark. I've noticed lately a most unpleasant note in
your voice, an objectionably defiant note which I simply will not
tolerate."

"But do you really mean that I'm not to go and see Mr. Ogilvie?"

"It would have been more courteous if Mr. Ogilvie had given himself the
trouble of writing to me, your guardian, before inviting you out to
lunch and I don't know what not besides."

"He said he would write to you."

"I don't want to embark on a correspondence with him," Uncle Henry
exclaimed petulantly. "I know the man by reputation. A bigoted
Ritualist. A Romanizer of the worst type. He'll only fill your head with
a lot of effeminate nonsense, and that at a time when it's particularly
necessary for you to concentrate upon your work. Don't forget that this
is your last year of school. I advise you to make the most of it."

"I've asked Mr. Ogilvie to prepare me for confirmation," said Mark, who
was determined to goad his uncle into losing his temper.

"Then you deserve to be thrashed."

"Look here, Uncle Henry," Mark began; and while he was speaking he was
aware that he was stronger than his uncle now and looking across at his
aunt he perceived that she was just a ball of badly wound wool lying in
a chair. "Look here, Uncle Henry, it's quite useless for you to try to
stop my going to Meade Cantorum, because I'm going there whenever I'm
asked and I'm going to be confirmed there, because you promised Mother
you wouldn't interfere with my religion."

"Your religion!" broke in Mr. Lidderdale, scornful both of the pronoun
and the substantive.

"It's no use your losing your temper or arguing with me or doing
anything except letting me go my own way, because that's what I intend
to do."

Aunt Helen half rose in her chair upon an impulse to protect her brother
against Mark's violence.

"And you can't cure me with Gregory Powder," he said. "Nor with Senna
nor with Licorice nor even with Cascara."

"Your behaviour, my boy, is revolting," said Mr. Lidderdale. "A young
Mohawk would not talk to his guardians as you are talking to me."

"Well, I don't want you to think I'm going to obey you if you forbid me
to go to Meade Cantorum," said Mark. "I'm sorry I was rude, Aunt Helen.
I oughtn't to have spoken to you like that. And I'm sorry, Uncle Henry,
to seem ungrate