"There!" said Miss Wilson, indignantly. "It is this incorrigible
flippancy of which I have to complain. Miss Wylie only varies it by
downright insubordination."

Mr. Jansenius too was scandalized. His fine color mounted at the idea
of his screaming. "Tut, tut!" he said, "you must be serious, and more
respectful to Miss Wilson. You are old enough to know better now,
Agatha--quite old enough."

Agatha's mirth vanished. "What have I said What have I done?" she asked,
a faint purple spot appearing in her cheeks.

"You have spoken triflingly of--of the volume by which Miss Wilson sets
great store, and properly so."

"If properly so, then why do you find fault with me?"

"Come, come," roared Mr. Jansenius, deliberately losing his temper as a
last expedient to subdue her, "don't be impertinent, Miss."

Agatha's eyes dilated; evanescent flushes played upon her cheeks and
neck; she stamped with her heel. "Uncle John," she cried, "if you dare
to address me like that, I will never look at you, never speak to you,
nor ever enter your house again. What do you know about good manners,
that you should call me impertinent? I will not submit to intentional
rudeness; that was the beginning of my quarrel with Miss Wilson. She
told me I was impertinent, and I went away and told her that she was
wrong by writing it in the fault book. She has been wrong all through,
and I would have said so before but that I wanted to be reconciled to
her and to let bygones be bygones. But if she insists on quarrelling, I