‘Lanherne!’ echoed Eve, springing back. ‘I can’t go there, papa; indeed I can’t. It is dull enough here, but it is ten thousand times duller there. I have just said so to Barbara. I can’t go, I won’t go to Lanherne. I don’t see why I should be forced. I’m not going to be a nun. My education has been completed under Barbara. I know where Cape Guardafui is, and the Straits of Malacca, and the Coromandel Coast. I know Mangnall’s questions and answers right through—that is, I know the questions and some of the answers. I can read “Télémaque.” What more is wanted of any girl? I don’t desire any more learning. I hate Lanherne. I fell ill last time I was there. Those nuns look like hobgoblins, and not like angels. I shall run away. Besides, it was eternally semolina pudding there, and, papa, I hate semolina. Always semolina on fast days, and the puddings sometimes burnt. There now, my education _is_ incomplete. I do not know whence semolina comes. Is it vegetable, papa? Mr. Coyshe, you are scientific, tell us the whole history of the production of this detestable article of commerce.’ ‘Semolina——’ began Mr. Coyshe. ‘Never mind about semolina,’ interrupted Barbara, who saw through her sister’s tricks. ‘We will turn up the word in the encyclopædia afterwards. We are considering Lanherne now.’ ‘I don’t mind the large-grained semolina so much, said Eve, with a face of childlike simplicity; ‘that is almost as good as tapioca.’ Her father caught her wrist and drew her hand upon the bed. He clutched it so tightly that she exclaimed that he hurt her. ‘Eve,’ he said, ‘it is necessary for you to go.’ Her face became dull and stubborn again. ‘Is Mr. Coyshe here to examine my chest, and see if I am strong enough to endure confinement? Because I was the means, according to you, papa, of poor—of the prisoner escaping last night, therefore I am to be sent to prison myself to-morrow.’ ‘I am not sending you to prison,’ said her father, ‘I am placing you under wise and pious guardians. You are not to be trusted alone any more. Barbara has been——’ ‘There! there!’ exclaimed Eve, flashing an angry glance at her sister, and bursting into tears; ‘was there ever a poor girl so badly treated? I am scolded, and threatened with jail. My sister, who should love me and take my part, is my chief tormentor, and instigates you, papa, against me. She is rightly called Barbara—she is a savage. I know so much Latin as to understand that.’ Barbara touched Mr. Coyshe, and signed to him to leave the room with her. Eve watched them out of the room with satisfaction. She could manage her father, she thought, if left alone with him. But her father was thoroughly alarmed. He had been told that she had met Martin on the rock. Barbara had told him this to exculpate Jasper. Her conduct on the preceding night had, moreover, filled him with uneasiness.