She longed inexpressibly for companionship, but young people were not permitted to visit at the Rectory. She dreamed long dreams of her father's people in the Château St. Juste, an old place near Arles, in South France, and of her mother's people at Desmondstown--an old estate gone almost to rack and ruin, for where was the money to keep it up? Mr. Mansfield was well aware of the state to which both families had been reduced, but when his little darling, as he called Margot, liked to talk about her father's and mother's people, he invariably encouraged her; that is, provided her aunt was not present. Mrs. Mansfield snapped up the child whenever her own people were talked of. She assured her that both families had gone to the dogs and did not even remember her existence. "You ought to be very thankful to have an uncle and aunt like myself and your Uncle John," said the good woman. "If my John was not what he is, you would be nothing more nor less than a miserable little beggar. See that you obey us both and do your best to return the great kindnesses that we show you." Little Margot St. Juste found it quite easy to respond to her uncle's kindness, but her aunt's was a totally different matter. Mrs. Mansfield's kindness consisted of "Don't, don't, _don't_," repeated with increasing energy from morning to night. "Don't attempt to stand on the hearth-rug, you bad child." "Don't look so silly; get your seam and begin to sew." "Don't stare at me out of those eyes of yours; you make me quite sick when you do, and above all things don't make a fool of your poor, overworked uncle. He has no right to teach you Latin and Greek. Such languages are not meant for women and I shall tell him so, if you don't do it yourself. Do you hear me?" But Margot was always coming across what she called "last straws" and this happened to be one. She was not afraid of her aunt, she only hated her. Now she went straight up to her and stared fully into her eyes. "What's the matter with you, you nasty, rude little beggar?" "I'm _not_ a beggar, auntie," replied Margot. "I'm going to ask Uncle Jack about that. He always tells me the truth." Now Mrs. Mansfield, severe as she was, had a certain wholesome fear of her good husband. "You dare not repeat what I say," was her remark. "I--I'll whip you if you do." "Then I'll have that, also, to tell Uncle Jack," replied Margot. "Auntie, you had best leave me alone. I intend to learn Latin and Greek, and I won't say a word of what you said just now to Uncle Jack if you'll let me alone. See, auntie, you had best for your own sake."