‘She is a dear, generous creature, Robert dear,’ she pleaded; ‘but just a little hasty, or at least she used to be; but of course she will have got over all that by this time’ (not so sure, thought I); ‘and we girls used to call her ‘La Lionne’ just for fun, you know, and somehow the name stuck to her. Oh, you should have seen her in a rage!’ continued Janie, warming beneath the recollection; ‘her eyes used to flash such glorious fire, and she didn’t seem to care what she did. Once, when I offended her, she flew at me just like a little cat, and bit me on the arm.’ And Janie laughed softly at the remembrance which made my blood boil. ‘What a she-devil!’ I exclaimed indignantly, as I thought of the fair flesh, of which I was so tender, lacerated by the teeth of a gaunt school-girl with vicious black eyes. ‘I should like to have caught her at it!’ Then Janie seemed to think she had said too much, and tried to retract. ‘Oh, but, Robert dear!’ she exclaimed, ‘she is very different now, you know; that all happened long ago; and though we still call her Lionne, it is seldom that she ever gives way to her temper. I have not seen her for some years; but when we last met we had not a word together during the whole period of her stay.’ ‘And how long may that have been, Janie?’ ‘For three weeks; and she was so pleasant and kind, you can’t think.’ Three weeks! I groaned in my spirit; and we are to endure six months of the company of this lady who is called Lionne, in compliment to the amiability of her disposition, and bites and scratches like a cat whenever she is offended. I began to think of clothing myself and my wife in mail armour during the period of her stay, so that we might be invulnerable to her attacks; but a remark to that effect to Janie seemed greatly to discompose her. ‘It is not fair of you, Robert dear,’ she said, with knitted brows, ‘to take my confidence in such a spirit. It is all nonsense to suppose that Margaret will be like that now; she is a charming girl, who is universally admired.’ ‘I am delighted to hear it,’ I replied sarcastically. ‘I hope, however, that she won’t take a liking to me; or that, if she does, she will keep her charming teeth to herself.’ ‘I daresay you won’t be troubled with her long,’ exclaimed Janie, with a degree of excitement which I foresaw would end in tears. ‘Margaret attracts lovers wherever she goes, and we shall have her engaged and married most likely before she has been many weeks in Mushin-Bunda.’ ‘Worse and worse,’ I inadvertently replied. ‘If I thought that was to be the end of it, Janie, I should cut and run at once.’ Visions of my brother officers lounging about the drawing-room all day, and snarling at each other like rival curs—of a wedding, and all the paraphernalia and fuss attendant on it—made me give vent to the horror which I felt in the anticipation.