"But do you think that Frank Jervaise realises that you were only playing with him for your own ends, this morning?" I asked. "Oh! yes," she said with perfect assurance. "As a matter of fact, he was very suspicious this morning. He's like his mother and sister in suspecting everybody." "Do you think he'll make trouble?" I said. "Now? Up at the Hall?" "Yes, I do. He's vindictive," she replied. "That's one reason why I'm glad you are with us, now. It might help--though I don't quite see how. Perhaps it's just the feeling of having some one else on our side. Because I'm afraid that there's going to be a lot of trouble when my father and mother come home. With my father, more particularly. He'll be afraid of being turned out. It will be very difficult to make him take up a new idea. He'll hate the thought of leaving here and starting all over again in Canada. He loves this place so." "And I suppose he likes, or at least respects, the Jervaises?" I said. "Not much," she replied. "They've made it very difficult for us in many ways." "Deliberately?" I suggested. "They don't care," she said, warming a little for the first time. "They simply don't think of any one but themselves. For instance, it mayn't seem much to you, but it's part of our agreement with Mr. Jervaise to provide the Hall with dairy when they're at home--at market prices, of course. And then they'll go to town for two or three months in the summer and take a lot of the servants with them, and we're left to find a market for our dairy as best we can, just when milk is most plentiful." She lifted her hands for a moment in a graceful French gesture as she added, "Often it means just giving milk away." "Does your father complain about that?" I asked. She turned and looked at me with a complete change of expression. Her abstraction had vanished, giving place to an air that confessed a deliberate caprice. "To _us_," she said with a laugh that delightfully indulged her father's weakness. I needed nothing more to illuminate the relations of the Banks family. With that single gesture she had portrayed her father's character, and her own and her mother's smiling consideration for him. Nevertheless I was still interested in his attitude towards the Hall--with Anne as interpreter. I knew that I should get a version noticeably different from the one her brother had given me on the hill that morning. "But you said that your father hadn't much _respect_ for the Jervaises?" I stipulated. "Not for the Jervaises as individuals," she amended, "but he has for the Family. And they aren't so much a family to him as an Idea, an Institution, a sort of Religion. Nothing would break him of that, nothing the Jervaises themselves ever could do. He'd be much more likely to lose his faith in God than in the Rights of the Hall. That's one of his sayings. He says they have rights, as if there was no getting over that. It's just like people used to believe in the divine right of kings."