"Well, I don’t like it then," Pamela cut her short with raised tone. "I don’t like it, and I won’t bear the burden of the things she does. So far _I_ am the only person who has spoken to her--in our family--but unless you let me see her now, and speak to her, and settle things up, I will tell them all--every one." Mrs. Chipman tried to speak. Pamela continued firmly, "I don’t want to be the least rude, but if you are responsible and all the rest of it, why don’t you look after her? Do you know she threw a note into my brother’s window last night about eleven, or half-past ten?" Mrs. Chipman gave a squeak like a trapped mouse, then she pressed a hand to her tight bodice. "Surely, surely, miss--I cannot credit----" "It was Hughie’s window, the next to mine," went on Pamela, "_he_ brought it in to me, because it was addressed to me. How she knew our rooms I can’t say--but that doesn’t matter--the point is, what was she doing in our grounds at that time?" Then flashed into Pamela’s mind the power of the whip she held--she went on: "What would Sir Marmaduke say, Mrs. Chipman? If you won’t let me see her, I shall certainly ask _him_ if I may--and explain matters." Mrs. Chipman was "taken all aback", like a full-rigged ship up in the wind. She hesitated. "Far be it from me, Miss Pamela, to place obstacles----" "That’s all right then," said Pam, "can I see her now?" At that moment a bell pealed somewhere in the house. Really pealed, with the jangling force of a violently pulled bell. "If you will excuse me, miss," said Mrs. Chipman, visibly perturbed. She opened the door, and hurried out into the hall, Pamela following closely with interest very wide awake. Again the bell was rung, more forcefully than ever. "Dear, oh dear!" muttered Mrs. Chipman, increasing her pace. Pamela giggled. But the bell-puller was unreasonably impatient. A door on the right hand of the hall--same side as the room they had quitted, but the last door--opened sharply, and the girl under discussion appeared. She wore no hat, and held a book in her hand. "I rang twice," she said, "I heard voices, and----" Pamela came forward. Drawn up to her full height, her carriage and manner were at least as haughty as those of the other girl. "_I_ was talking to Mrs. Chipman," she said. "As a matter of fact I came to see you, and she was doubtful about it; so I told her I insisted." "Excuse me, Countess," burst in Mrs. Chipman, "but I must protest now, and once for all against irregular conduct. I stand in the position of guardian. The grounds are open to you, and you have the option of gravitation to any portion of the wood, orchards, or gardens--there is no excuse----" "You talk too much," said the girl irritably, "be silent. You are not a guardian, you are my maid--Sir Marmaduke is my guardian, for the time. Come into this room, Miss Romilly, I will receive you here."