a reason for your conduct this afternoon."

"Explain what, grannie?" I inquired.

"None of that pretence! Not only have you been most outrageously
insulting to Mr Hawden when I sent him with you, but you also
deliberately and wilfully disobeyed me."

Uncle Julius listened attentively, and Hawden looked at me with such a
leer of triumph that my fingers tingled to smack his cars. Turning to my
grandmother, I said distinctly and cuttingly:

"Grannie, I did not intentionally disobey you. Disobedience never entered
my head. I hate that thing. His presence was detestable to me. When he
got out at the gate I could not resist the impulse to drive off and leave
him there. He looked such a complete jackdaw that you would have laughed
yourself to see him."

"Dear, oh dear! You wicked hussy, what will become of you!" And grannie
shook her head, trying to look stern, and hiding a smile in her
serviette.

"Your manners are not improving, Sybylla. I fear you must be
incorrigible," said aunt Helen.

When uncle Jay-Jay heard the whole particulars of the affair, he lay back
in his chair and laughed fit to kill himself.

"You ought to be ashamed to always encourage her in her tomboyish ways,
Julius. It grieves me to see she makes no effort to acquire a ladylike
demeanour," said grannie.

Mr Hawden had come off second-best, so he arose from his half-finished
meal and stamped out, banging the door after him, and muttering something
about "a disgustingly spoilt and petted tomboy", "a hideous barbarian",
and so forth.

Uncle Jay-Jay related that story to everyone, dwelling with great delight
upon the fact that Frank Hawden was forced to walk four miles in the heat
and dust.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As Short as I Wish had been the Majority of Sermons to which
I have been Forced to give Ear

When alone I confessed to aunt Helen that Harold had accompanied me to
within a short distance of home. She did not smile as usual, but looked
very grave, and, drawing me in front of her, said:

"Sybylla, do you know what you are doing? Do you love Harry Beecham? Do
you mean to marry him?"

"Aunt Helen, what a question to ask! I never dreamt of such a thing. He
has never spoken a word of love to me. Marriage! I am sure he does not
for an instant think of me in that light. I'm not seventeen."

"Yes, you are young, but some people's age cannot be reckoned by years. I
am glad to see you have developed a certain amount of half-real an