“Please don’t think,” said Lady Jane, “that I am going to pick my words to please you. I never do it, and especially not to a couple of boys whom I have known since ever they were born, and before that. What do you mean by it, if it is you, Charlie Somers? I suppose, by Algy’s laugh, that he is not the chief offender this time. You know as well as I do that you’re not a man to take little girls about. I suppose you must have sense enough to know that, whatever good opinion you may have of yourself. Stella Tredgold may be a little fool, but she’s a girl I have taken up, and I don’t mean to let her be compromised. A girl that knew anything would have known better than to mix up her name with yours. Now what is the meaning of it? You will just be so good as to inform me.” “Why, Cousin Jane, it was all the little thing herself.” “Shut up!” said Sir Charles again, with another kick at Algy’s foot. “Well!” said Lady Jane, very magisterially. No judge upon the bench could look more alarming than she. It is true that her short skirts, her strong walking shoes, her very severest hat and stiff feather that would bear the rain, were not so impressive as flowing wigs and robes. She had not any of the awe-inspiring trappings of the Law; but she was law all the same, the law of society, which tolerates a great many things, and is not very nice about motives nor forbidding as to details, but yet draws the line--if capriciously--sometimes, yet very definitely, between what can and what cannot be done. “Well,” came at length hesitatingly through the culprit’s big moustache. “Don’t know, really--have got anything to say--no meaning at all. Bet to clear up--him and me; then sudden thought--just ten minutes--try the sails. No harm in that, Lady Jane,” he said, more briskly, recovering courage, “afterwards gale came on; no responsibility,” he cried, throwing up his hands. “Fact it was she that was the keenest. I shan’t shut up,” cried Algy; “up to anything, that little thing is. Never minded a bit till it got very bad, and then gave in, but never said a word. No fault of anybody, that is the truth. But turned out badly--for me----” “And worse for her,” said Lady Jane--“that is, without me; all the old cats will be down upon the girl” (which was not true, the reader knows). “She is a pretty girl, Charlie.” Sir Charles, though he was so experienced a person, coloured faintly and gave a nod of his head. “Stunner, by Jove!” said Algy, “though I like the little plain one better,” he added in a parenthesis. “And a very rich girl, Sir Charles,” Lady Jane said. This time a faint “O--Oh” came from under the big moustache. “A _very_ rich girl. The father is an old curmudgeon, but he is made of money, and he adores his little girl. I believe he would buy a title for her high and think it cheap.” “Oh, I say!” exclaimed Sir Charles, with a colour more pronounced upon his cheek.