I never told Dolly of my intimacy with the barrister's little girl over
the wall. This was not because I was ashamed of the friendship, but
arose from a fear-well-founded enough--that she would make sport of it.
At twelve Dolly had notions concerning the walks of life that most other
children never dream of. They were derived, of course, from Mr.
Marmaduke. But the day of reckoning arrived. Patty and I were romping
beside the back wall when suddenly a stiff little figure in a starched
frock appeared through the trees in the direction of the house, followed
by Master Will Fotheringay in his visiting clothes. I laugh now when I
think of that formal meeting between the two little ladies. There was no
time to hoist Miss Swain over the wall, or to drive Miss Manners back
upon the house. Patty stood blushing as though caught in a guilty act,
while she of the Generations came proudly on, Will sniggering behind her.

"Who is this, Richard?" asks Miss Manners, pointing a small forefinger.

"Patty Swain, if you must know!" I cried, and added boylike: "And she is
just as good as you or me, and better." I was quite red in the face, and
angry because of it. "This is Dorothy Manners, Patty, and Will
Fotheringay."

The moment was a pregnant one. But I was resolved to carry the matter
out with a bold front. "Will you join us at catch and swing?" I asked.

Will promptly declared that he would join, for Patty was good to look
upon. Dolly glanced at her dress, tossed her head, and marched back
alone.

"Oh, Richard!" cried Patty; "I shall never forgive myself! I have made
you quarrel with--"