"Of course, Gertrude, if you look at it in that way. But a governess!" "I do look at it in that way; and allow me to tell you, Anne, that you dress her abominably, and I have advised her to revolt. And her hair! I spoke to her about it yesterday, and she said you liked her to plaster it down like that. The child has beautiful hair, very like mine at her age. It needs releasing. It is not necessary that she should imitate your severe coiffure." "Oh! Gertrude, I always brush my own hair back, and surely it is not too much to ask of my brother's only child who owes everything to me to--" I became tearful. "It _is_ too much to ask. You are an egoist, Anne. The poor child looked quite frightened when I spoke to her yesterday. You mean well, but you have repressed her. I intend, on the contrary, to draw her out, to widen her narrowed, pinched existence." Gertrude had said the same of Jimmy when she married him. Everyone had a pinched existence till she dawned on them, though it would have been difficult to say who had dared to pinch Jimmy. Next day Dulcie came down half frightened, wholly delighted, to confer with me. "My dear," I said. "Do exactly what kind Mrs. Cross wishes about your hair and dress and general deportment. I can't explain, it would take too long, and when I had explained you would not understand. You may now take back with you the lilac gown and the sun-bonnet. And, by the way, what is this Mr. Wilson like who is always coming over?" "Very, _very_ nice"--with fervour. "And handsome?" "Very, _very_ handsome." "H'm! Now, Dulcie, no nonsense such as you ladled out to me about Herr Müller, the music master at Dresden. You needn't cry. That is all past and forgotten. But I want a plain answer. Does this very handsome man care about chickens?" "Yes, yes, Aunt Anne. He has taken several prizes." "Does he come to see you, or Joan?" Dulcie cogitated. "At first it was Joan," she said. Light broke in on me. _That serpent Gertrude!_ She did not think the poultry fancier good enough for the stolid Joan, but quite good enough for my exquisite Dulcibella. "I must go back now," said Dulcie. "I'm dining down because Mr. Cross likes a game of patience in the evening. It keeps him from falling asleep. Mr. Wilson is staying to dinner. I'm going to wear my amber muslin, and Mr. Vavasour is coming to stay. We've seen a good deal of him lately. Mrs. Cross says he has had a very overshadowed life with his old mother, and she wants to help him to a wider sphere." I pricked up my ears. "Is he Vavasour, of Harlington?" "Yes, that's his home, near Lee on the Solent." "But surely he is quite an infant." "I don't know what you mean by an infant, Aunt Anne. He is two years older than me, and he simply _loves_ poetry." "And is he as nice as Mr. Wilson?" "Very, _very_ nice." Further lights were bursting in. The illumination momentarily staggered me. "H'm. Dulcie, you will now attend to what I tell you."