"When your father was a boy, there was not a key turned in the house to hinder his helping himself to forbidden sweets. I could trust to his honor. Now, am I to consider you so far his inferior that I must furnish myself with bolts and bars?" "Mamma did not lock up things, either. It wouldn't have done any good if she had. And we ate whatever we pleased." "And were continually having ill turns. Now, my child, you are old enough to act like a reasonable being, and you must see that you bring on these sick head-aches by your want of self-control. I want you to do me one favor, of your own accord give up tea and coffee." "Oh, I can't!" "With God's help you can." "No, I can't. He won't help me about anything. Old Mary says she should think He would hate me, I plague you so much." "Oh, I don't think old Mary said that!" "Well, maybe she didn't. She said something like it." "My poor child, He hates nobody on earth. And now, if in spite of all your fractious, disobedient ways, I, only a human being at best, love you, how do you think _He_ feels?" "I think He can't bear me. And I don't believe you love me, either. But papa did, and I mean to ask him to let me come home." "So you have said a dozen times. If you think you had better go, and that you will be happier there, and more likely to outgrow your faults, I shall not prevent you." "You won't ever let me have my own way, and mamma did." "And were you becoming a model eldest daughter to her?" "Nobody _could_ be a model in the house with Rosabelle. On the whole, I'd rather stay here than go home. Rosabelle is just _horrid_!" "I can't talk to you any more now. I must pray more and say less." "I want to go to Ellinor Lathrop's party." "I have told you, once for all, that you cannot go." "Then I think you're real mean." "_Gabrielle!_" The girl was startled by the righteous indignation, mingled with dignity, with which she was addressed. Accustomed for fourteen years to look down upon her mother, she fancied she could brow-beat her grandmother also. "You may go to your room now," said Mrs. Grey. "And let me tell you that if you wean my heart from me, you will lose one of the best friends you ever had." For once Gabrielle found she had gone too far. There is a limit no child should be allowed to pass, and she found herself confronted by it now. She flew to her room, and began letter after letter to her father, pouring out her grievances into an ear that had always listened to her with sympathy. But what would be the use of complaining to him about his mother, whom he loved and revered? Suddenly she bethought herself of Margaret; wouldn't she take her part, perhaps? There was another rush here and there, and at last she found Margaret in her own room studying. "Grandma won't let me go to Ellinor Lathrop's party," was her abrupt beginning. "Why, I know that. You and she discussed it at breakfast."