at public meetings, he had grown so accustomed to deference that any
approach to familiarity or irreverence disconcerted him exceedingly.
Agatha, on the other hand, having from her childhood heard Uncle John
quoted as wisdom and authority incarnate, had begun in her tender years
to scoff at him as a pompous and purseproud city merchant, whose
sordid mind was unable to cope with her transcendental affairs. She
had habitually terrified her mother by ridiculing him with an absolute
contempt of which only childhood and extreme ignorance are capable. She
had felt humiliated by his kindness to her (he was a generous giver
of presents), and, with the instinct of an anarchist, had taken
disparagement of his advice and defiance of his authority as the signs
wherefrom she might infer surely that her face was turned to the light.
The result was that he was a little tired of her without being quite
conscious of it; and she not at all afraid of him, and a little too
conscious of it.

When she entered with her brightest smile in full play, Miss Wilson and
Mr. Jansenius, seated at the table, looked somewhat like two culprits
about to be indicted. Miss Wilson waited for him to speak, deferring to
his imposing presence. But he was not ready, so she invited Agatha to
sit down.

"Thank you," said Agatha sweetly. "Well, Uncle John, don't you know me?"

"I have heard with regret from Miss Wilson that you have been very
troublesome here," he said, ignoring her remark, though secretly put out
by it.

"Yes," said Agatha contritely. "I am so very sorry."