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’ t be ridiculous! Though I shouldn ’ t mind being Lady Persephone. That would sound pretty!”
    “Alas,” said Sir Edmund gravely, “you should have thought of that before your birth, and aimed at the family of a duke or earl for your own, not a mere baronet!” He was pleased to hear this mild pleasantry draw the ghost of a chuckle from her, and continued, lightly, “Of course — not that one would advocate this as grounds for matrimony! — should you find yourself with a titled husband some day, you would be able to call yourself Lady So-and-so: whatever his name may be.”
    At this, however, the brief sunny gleam in her eyes instantly vanished, and she said crossly, “Who cares for that? Such Stuff!”
    While Sir Edmund agreed, he was a little surprised to hear this opinion expressed by a young lady of only eighteen who showed no other conspicuous signs of maturity. However, he said encouragingly, “Well, that ’ s very laudable and level-headed of you!” Perhaps, after all, this was the time for the homily? “I may as well say now, Persephone, that you are likely to have a great many young men at your feet, eligible and otherwise, and —”
    “Well, I don ’ t want them!” snapped Persephone. Then a cautiously wheedling note entered her voice, and her pretty brow wrinkled as she said thoughtfully, “I suppose I cannot have control of my fortune until I am one-and twenty?”
    “No,” said Sir Edmund firmly.
    “Really not?”
    “Really not.”
    “Oh, it ’ s too bad!” she exclaimed pettishly.
    “Why — do you think I mean to play the part of wicked uncle, and keep you without a proper allowance?” he asked, still gently quizzing her in an effort to draw her out of the dismals. “Come, Persephone, surely you don ’ t suppose that you will want for anything suitable to a young lady of birth and fortune making her debut in London!”
    “London!” uttered Persephone, in tones of the deepest distaste.
    “My dear,” said Sir Edmund gently, “I wish you will tell me why you are so set against going to London?”
    She evaded the direct question, and resorted to counterattack. “You don ’ t know anything !” she cried, fiercely. “You don ’ t know anything about it at all!”
    “No,” Sir Edmund agreed, “and I can ’ t help wishing I did. Won ’ t you tell me? We are your own family, you know. I won ’ t eat you! Nor will your Cousin Isabella —”
    “Her! She doesn ’ t even like me!” interrupted Persephone.
    “Oh, but indeed she does!” Sir Edmund assured her. Here, perhaps, lay the real root of the trouble: Isabella, who, in the heat of the moment, had no doubt expressed herself pretty forcibly at the time of the Unfortunate Business. Knowing his sister ’ s real good nature, he felt that Persephone was labouring under a misapprehension, and was only sorry that the matter had rankled so long. “I fancy she may once have given you a scold, my dear, but that ’ s all in the past, and she is most sincerely attached to you. You know that she doesn ’ t enjoy very stout health, or she would have brought you out last year — but now we mean to engage some suitable lady to help her take you about to all the routs and parties. And I promise you we won ’ t accept anyone for that post unless you yourself like her,” he added shrewdly.
    His carefully judged words, however failed of their effect. “Some old cat, of course!” commented Persephone, flinging herself back less than elegantly against the squabs of the post-chaise. “But it is all of a piece! Thinking you can — can cajole me with routs and parties! Overbearing my wishes, just because I ’ m not of age! Tearing me from all closest to my heart!” she continued, warming to her theme. “Wrenching me from those I hold most dear!”
    This was a little too much for Sir Edmund, who could not help mildly protesting, “Really, Persephone, you cannot have wished to remain at the Miss Maddens ’ seminary all your