But when she came into the nursery, she found some startling little apparitions awaiting her. Josie and Georgie were a mass of feathers and paint. They had liberally spotted their faces and arms with red and blue paint, and had decorated Ruffie in the same way. Some of the feathers had been coloured, and hung in strings round their necks. Their heads were in caps with cock's feathers sticking up in all directions. In a few minutes Anstice had arranged them according to their satisfaction, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in a circle round the fire. Ruffie was made comfortable in a nest of cushions. He refused to stay on his couch. "My name is Chief Baggwanda," he said, "and I've come through black forests to talk in this pow-wow." "And I am Chief Rattleskunk," said Josie, lifting a stick and brandishing it aloft as if it were a sword. "I am for war." "And so is Chief Wallajinks," cried Georgie, "which is me. I am for the scalp of our bitter enemy!" "My brothers," said Anstice, falling into the game at once, "I, the oldest Chief in our country, must speak first. I, Hiamona-stagabrokkin, know not whether we are for peace or for war. That cannot be settled by one or two, it must be settled by us all. And now let us start. Give me your ears." She paused, then she fell into her natural tones. "I have come up here at your father's wish to make this house a happy home for us. I am not going to teach you, or give you lessons. I am not clever enough to be a governess. Brenda has tried her utmost to provide you with clothes and food; your father has provided the money, but it is too big a house for Brenda to run by herself. I am here to help her." Josie had listened so far with impatience. Here she broke in: "We don't mean to be managed; Georgie and I manage ourselves. We won't have anybody ordering us about, and if you're going to start telling us what to do, we shall get rid of you. We've got rid of six governesses already. We know how to do it." "You see," said Georgie, putting in her word eagerly, "we're the new race, that's what Mrs. Penfold, the clergyman's wife who went away, was always saying. She said modern girls were awful, and couldn't be managed anyhow. That's Josie and me. We're awful, and we'll show you how awful we can be!" "I don't doubt that," said Anstice, nodding her head gravely. "But the trouble is that you won't be able to turn me out. I have come to stay. I am not a governess, and this is my home, and everything in this house belongs to your father and me, and of course you go shares! You can treat me like your governesses, but you will find I can't be frightened or threatened or driven away. The only thing you could do would be to poison me or drown me or kill me in some way; but if you did that, it would of course, be found out, and you would be taken away by the police." "Would they be hung?" asked Ruffie excitedly.