"In moderation--and in proper ways," says Miss Majendie stonily. "In
moderation," she repeats mechanically, almost unconsciously. And
then suddenly her wrath gets the better of her, and she breaks out
in a violent rage. That one should dare to question _her_ actions!
"Who are _you?"_ demands she fiercely, "that you should presume to
dictate right and wrong to _me."_

"I am Miss Wynter's guardian," says the professor, who begins to see
visions--and all the lower regions let loose at once. Could an
original Fury look more horrible than this old woman, with her grey
nodding head, and blind vindictive passion. He hears his voice
faltering, and knows that he is edging towards the door. After all,
what can the bravest man do with an angry old woman, except to get
away from her as quickly as possible? And the professor, through
brave enough in the usual ways, is not brave where women are
concerned.

"Guardian or no guardian, I will thank you to remember you are in
_my_ house!" cries Miss Majendie, in a shrill tone that runs through
the professor's head.

"Certainly. Certainly," says he, confusedly, and then he slips out
of the room, and having felt the door close behind him, runs
tumultuously down the staircase. For years he has not gone down any
staircase so swiftly. A vague, if unacknowledged, feeling that he is
literally making his escape from a vital danger, is lending wings to
his feet. Before him lies the hall-door, and that way safety lies,
safety from that old gaunt, irate figure upstairs. He is not allowed
to reach it, however--just yet.