my dear a Maud--you cannot walk so far.'

'Well, towards home, then.'

'And wy not a this way? We ave not walk enough, and Mr. Ruthyn he will not
be pleased if you do not take proper exercise. Let us walk on by the path,
and stop when you like.'

'Where do you wish to go, Madame?'

'Nowhere particular--come along; don't be fool, Maud.'

'This leads to Church Scarsdale.'

'A yes indeed! wat sweet place! bote we need not a walk all the way to
there.'

'I'd rather not walk outside the grounds to-day, Madame.'

'Come, Maud, you shall not be fool--wat you mean, Mademoiselle?' said the
stalworth lady, growing yellow and greenish with an angry mottling, and
accosting me very gruffly.

'I don't care to cross the stile, thank you, Madame. I shall remain at this
side.'

'You shall do wat I tell you!' exclaimed she.

'Let go my arm, Madame, you hurt me,' I cried.

She had griped my arm very firmly in her great bony hand, and seemed
preparing to drag me over by main force.

'Let me go,' I repeated shrilly, for the pain increased.

'La!' she cried with a smile of rage and a laugh, letting me go and shoving
me backward at the same time, so that I had a rather dangerous tumble.

I stood up, a good deal hurt, and very angry, notwithstanding my fear of
her.

'I'll ask papa if I am to be so ill-used.'

'Wat av I done?' cried Madame, laughing grimly from her hollow jaws; I did
all I could to help you over--'ow could I prevent you to pull back and
tumble if you would do so? That is the way wen you petites Mademoiselles
are naughty and hurt yourself they always try to make blame other people.
Tell a wat you like--you think I care?'

'Very well, Madame.'

'Are a you coming?'

'No.'

She looked steadily in my face and very wickedly. I gazed at her as with
dazzled eyes--I suppose as the feathered prey do at the owl that glares on
them by night. I neither moved back nor forward, but stared at her quite
helplessly.

'You are nice pupil--charming young person! So polite, so obedient, so
amiable! I will walk towards Church Scarsdale,' she continued, suddenly
breaking through the conventionalism of her irony, and accosting me
in savage accents. 'You weel stay behind if you dare. I tell you to
accompany--do you hear?'

More than ever resolved against following her, I remained where I was,
watching her as she marched fiercely away, swinging her basket as though in
imagination knocking my head off with it.

She soon co