of football games which American penny-a-line correspondents send to the
London papers and nothing I could say would change their convictions."

"It doesn't make any difference. You should say what you think. To sit
there and let them--Oh, it is ridiculous!"

"My feelings were not hurt. Their ideas will broaden by and by, when
they are as old as I am. They're young now."

This charitable remark seemed to have the effect of making her more
indignant than ever.

"Nonsense!" she cried. "You speak as if you were an Old Testament
patriarch."

Hephzy put in a word.

"Why, Frances," she said, "I thought you didn't like America."

"I don't. Of course I don't. But it makes me lose patience to have him
sit there and agree to everything those boys say. Why didn't he answer
them as he should? If I were an American no one--NO one should rag me
about my country without getting as good as they gave."

I was amused. "What would you have me do?" I asked. "Rise and sing the
'Star Spangled Banner'?"

"I would have you speak your mind like a man. Not sit there like a--like
a rabbit. And I wouldn't act and think like a Methusaleh until I was
one."

It was quite evident that "my niece" was a young person of whims. The
next time the "States" were mentioned and I ventured to speak in their
defence, she calmly espoused the other side and "ragged" as mercilessly
as the rest. I found myself continually on the defensive, and this state
of affairs had one good effect at least--that of waking me up.

Toward Hephzy her manner was quite different. She now, especially when
we three were alone, occasionally addressed her as "Auntie." And she
would not permit "Auntie" to be made fun of. At the least hint of such a
thing she snubbed the would-be humorist thoroughly. She and Hephzy
were becoming really friendly. I felt certain she was beginning to like
her--to discern the real woman beneath the odd exterior. But when I
expressed this thought to Hephzy herself she shook her head doubtfully.

"Sometimes I've almost thought so, Hosy," she said, "but only this
mornin' when I said somethin' about her mother and how much she looked
like her, she almost took my head off. And she's got her pa's picture
right in the middle of her bureau. No, Hosy, she's nicer to us than she
was at first because it's her nature to be nice. So long as she forgets
who and what we are, or what her scamp of a father told her we were, she
treats us like her own folks. But