"I am gentle," Evadna protested grievedly. "I've never once
forgotten to be gentle and quiet, and I haven't done a thing to
them--but they're horrid and rough, anyway--"

"Let me in, honey, and we'll talk it over. Something's got to be
done. If you wouldn't be so timid, and would make friends with
them, instead of looking at them as if you expected them to
murder you--I must say, Vadnie, you're a real temptation; they
can't help scaring you when you go around acting as if you
expected to be scared. You--you're TOO--" The door opened still
wider, and she went in. "Now, the idea of a great girl like you
hiding her head under a pillow just because Grant asked old Hagar
to apologize!"

Evadna sat down upon the edge of the bed and stared unwinkingly
at her aunt. "They don't apologize like that in New Jersey," she
observed, with some resentment in her voice, and dabbed at her
unbelievably blue eyes with a moist ball of handkerchief.

"I know they don't, honey." Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly.
"That's what I want you to help me teach my boys--to be real
gentlemen. They're pure gold, every one of them; but I can't
deny they're pretty rough on the outside sometimes. And I hope
you will be--"

"Oh, I know. I understand perfectly. You just got me out here
as a--a sort of sandpaper for your boys' manners!" Evadna choked
over a little sob of self-pity. "I can just tell you one thing,
Aunt Phoebe, that fellow you call Grant ought to be smoothed with
one of those funny axes they hew logs with."