“Don’t you?” said Chris calmly, as she set his teeth on edge by tearing a piece of calico. “Then, as I am quite sure you’re not dull-witted, I can only suppose that you must think I am. For the past two days,” she went on, as she tore off another strip of calico, “you have followed me about everywhere; and when you have not done it of your own accord, I have seen Mrs. Graham-Shute remind you by a nod or a look that you had to do so. Ah! ha! You didn’t think my eyes were so good as that, did you?” Donald was redder than before, and furious with his mother, Chris, and himself. But then the boy peeped out in him, and he snatched away the calico just as she was about to tear it again. “Don’t do that, for goodness’ sake!” said he, wincing. “Call me names, if you like, make me out a cad if you like, but don’t set my teeth on edge!” “I’m not going to call you names, or to make you out anything,” said Chris, blushing and laughing a little, and looking very pretty in the excitement of the skirmish. “But, of course, I can’t help having my own opinion of your behaviour.” “I don’t care what your opinion is, you’ve no right to say such things!” cried Donald in a loud and dictatorial tone. “I haven’t said anything but that you followed me about because your mother told you to,” said Chris, looking up with a daring face. “It isn’t true! It isn’t true, it’s a--a--well, it isn’t true!” roared Donald. “Yes, it is true, and I know why she does it, too!” she added in a defiant tone, but with burning cheeks. “And I can tell you that both you and she are wasting your time; for I’m not going to do the thing you’re both so much afraid of. And if I _were_ going to do it,” she added, with spirit, “nothing you and she could do would prevent me.” For a moment Donald was struck dumb. He was not only astonished, but he was filled with admiration. He liked the girl’s “pluck,” and she looked “jolly pretty.” “And w-w-what’s that?” he stammered almost meekly. “Why,” said Chris, becoming redder than ever, and looking at him half-shyly, half-defiantly, “why, marry Mr. Bradfield!” By this time Donald had given up all thoughts of contradicting her. Where was the use? So he sat down again upon the table, and stared at her stupidly. “Oh!” said he at last in a feeble manner, and in a tone of reflection--“oh! so that’s what you think, is it?” “Yes, and what I think further is that you’re both very silly.” “By Jove!” said Donald softly, “I think we are!” “And as you agree with me so entirely upon this point,” said Chris, as she skipped over the piles of material which lay on the floor, and made for the door, “you won’t be surprised when I tell you that if you dare to come and worry me any more, I shall tell Mr. Bradfield. And perhaps you know whether you would like that!” With which tremendous menace, Chris gave him a little curt bow, and ran quickly out of the room, leaving him in a state of stupefaction.