"What’s unshootable?" demanded the volatile Edmund, quite unabashed. Miss Esperance was busy re-threading the darning-needle Edmund’s surprising ditty had caused her to drop, and she did not reply at once. "What’s unshootable?" Edmund demanded again. "Unsuitable," Miss Esperance corrected. "Well, ’shootable’ or ’sootable,’ whichever it is; what does it mean, Aunt Esperance?" "It means not fitting." "Like my top-coat that’s got too wee?" "No, Edmund, I did not in this case refer to bodily things." "Like boots, then?" Edmund persisted, his head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow’s. Miss Esperance detached her mind from her darning. "What I meant was," she said seriously, "that a vulgar and ugly song is distressing enough upon anybody’s lips, but above all upon the lips of a child." "I don’t sing with my lips," Edmund objected. "What’s a wench, Aunt Esperance?" "A wench is a young woman," Miss Esperance reluctantly explained. "Hooo!" Edmund cried scornfully. "I thought it was armour of some sort. I don’t think I’d be very gay with a young woman on my knee—if she was as heavy as Robina, anyway." "Hush, Edmund! I will not have you discuss that odious song any more. Forget it as quickly as you can; and I shall have to speak to Colonel Dundas about allowing his men to sing such songs before you!" "He didn’t know I was there," Edmund said loyally. "He was the very nicest man, and Elsa never answered the door. It’s such a nice tune, too," he added regretfully. Miss Esperance made no answer. Her busy needle flew in and out of the stocking, and she appeared absorbed in her beautiful darning. Edmund had picked up all the pins, and he fidgeted about in silence for a minute more till he observed thoughtfully: "So shootable’s a vulgar song?" "Child! You do nothing but misunderstand me to-day. I never said the song was suitable, I said it was unsuitable, which means inappropriate, and, in this case—improper." "Were you ever a wench, Aunt Esperance?" "Certainly not," Miss Esperance answered, with considerable heat. "But you was a young woman once, Aunt Esperance?" "That word, Edmund, is never applied to well-bred women at any time of life. It is not in itself a term of reproach, but it refers generally to—" Miss Esperance paused. "What’s it refer to?" "Well—to women of the less refined classes. It is a South of England word—somewhat equivalent to our ’lassie." "Which is the less refined classes, Aunt Esperance? Is they in a school?" "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! You do nothing but ask questions to-day," Miss Esperance sighed. "Still, it is right you should understand. The less refined classes, Edmund, are such as have not had many advantages in the way of education or upbringing. Excellent persons often——" "Perhaps yon wench was an excellent person," Edmund suggested hopefully.