nd. You'll stick to them like a leech. You won't give
him any chance of talking to Mum alone. It's most important."

"I understand. But what's that? Anybody could do it," she said in a
tone of extreme bitterness. "It's you that's getting all the real fun."

"But you'll be able to make yourself beastly disagreeable, if you're
careful," said the Terror.

"Of course, I shall. But what's that? I tell you what it is: I'm
going to have my proper share of the real fun. The first chance I get,
I'm going to stone him--so there!" said Erebus fiercely.

"All right. But it doesn't seem quite the thing for a girl to do,"
said the Terror in a judicial tone.

"Rats!" said Erebus.

It was well that Mrs. Dangerfield kept Captain Baster waiting; it gave
the purple tinge, which was heightening his floridness somewhat
painfully, time to fade. When she did come to him, he was further
annoyed by the fact that Erebus came too, and with a truculent air
announced her intention of accompanying them. Mrs. Dangerfield was
surprised; Erebus seldom showed any taste for such a gentle occupation.
Also she was relieved; she did not want Captain Baster to propose
before she had taken counsel with her brother.

Captain Baster started in a gloomy frame of mind; he did not try to
hide from himself the fact that Mrs. Dangerfield had lost some of her
charm: she was the mother of the Terror. He found, too, that his
instinctive distaste for the company of Erebus was not ungrounded. She
was a nuisance; she would talk about wet boots; the subject seemed to
fascinate her. Then, when at last he recovered his spirits, grew once
more humorous, and even rose to the proposing point, there was no
getting rid of her. She was impervious to hints; she refused, somewhat
pertly, to pause and gather the luscious blackberries. How could a man
be his humorous self in these circumstances? He felt that his humor
was growing strained, losing its delightful lightness.

Then the accident: it was entirely Erebus' own fault (he could swear
it) that he tripped over her foot and pitched among those infernal
brambles. Her howls of anguish were all humbug: he had not hurt her
ankle (he could swear it); there was not a tear. The moment he
offered, furiously, to carry her, she walked without a vestige of a
limp.

Mrs. Dangerfield had no right to look vexed with him; if one brought up
one's children like that--well. Certainly she was losing her charm;
she was