"My poor child," said I mournfully, "my poor--" "I'm not your child!" she retorted. "And as for poor--what o' this?" and she shook the bag at her girdle until the coins within it chinked. "This is most distressing!" said I, shaking my head. "What is?" "A noun is not a tree--" "You says it was--" "I told you a tree was a noun--which is a very different thing." "If a tree's a noun, a noun's a tree--or should be, and if 'tain't, then grammar's foolish and I don't want none of it--" "That sentence is execrable grammar, Diana, because two negatives make a positive hence when you say 'you don't want none,' it really means that you do want some--" "I don't care!" she said in her sullen fashion. "But you must--" "Well, I shan't!" "Don't be a naughty child, Diana! Please come and sit down." "I hates your grammar--" "The sun is very hot, Diana, so come and sit down here by me and let us talk like the true friends I hope we are." With a petulant gesture she obeyed; so there we sat side by side, our backs to the broad bole of the great tree, a branch of which, drooping low, made for us a green bower, as it were. And here, sitting thus side by side, we continued our discussion on this wise: DIANA (sullenly). However, I don't want any more o' your grammar; I gets along well enough without it-- MYSELF (interrupting). But then I want you to do much more than just get along, Diana. DIANA. How much more? MYSELF. Well, I want you to live to the utmost of your capacity, to make the very best of yourself and your life, to become the wonderful woman you may be if only you will. And this you can never do without a knowledge of grammar and deportment. DIANA. And why d'ye want me to do--to be all this? MYSELF. Because it is a duty you owe to the world and your own womanhood. If we all strove to do our best, the world would become a better place for everybody, at once. DIANA (passionately). Oh, 'tis easy for you to talk so fine; you've got friends--rich friends t' help you! But who have I got-- MYSELF. Well, Diana, his name, as I told you before, is Peregrine. DIANA. You? MYSELF. Precisely-- DIANA. d'ye mean--what do you mean? MYSELF. That I will be your true friend always--to help you so long as you need--if you will have me. My friends shall be your friends--especially my aunt Julia, who is the noblest and best of women-- DIANA (ungraciously). A _Kooshti para rati_--a true _rawni_--a grand lady, I s'pose? MYSELF. She is a truly great lady. DIANA. And wears silk gowns that rustle, I s'pose? MYSELF (mystified). I believe her gowns do rustle--but what in the world--? DIANA. Then I should hate her! MYSELF. But why? In the name of reason why under heaven should--? DIANA. Just because! MYSELF. Pray be more explicit. Why should you hate one whom--? DIANA. Because she'd rustle her fine silks at me and look through me and try to make me feel I was only small beer. MYSELF. 'Small beer' is an extremely unpleasing phrase, Diana.