Fighting against it all the while, the choleric baronet allowed himself to be pressed down into one of the easy-chairs, Glynne drawing a footstool to his side, sitting at his feet, and clasping and resting her hands upon his knees. "Well, there, now; are you satisfied?" he said, half laughing, half angry. "No, papa. I want to know why you and uncle quarrelled." "Oh, the old reason," said Sir John, colouring. "He will be as obstinate as a mule, and the more you try to reason with him, the more he turns to you his hind legs and kicks." "Did you try to reason with Uncle James, papa?" "Did I try to reason with him? Why, of course I did, but you might as well try to reason with a stone trough." "What was it about?" said Glynne, quietly. "What was it about? Oh, about the--about the--bless my soul, what did it begin about? Some, some, some--dear me, how absurd, Glynne. He upset me so that it has completely gone out of my head. What do you mean? What do you mean by shaking your head like that? Confound it all, Glynne, are you going to turn against me?" "Oh, papa, papa, how sad it is," said Glynne, gently. "You have upset poor uncle like this all about some trifle of so little consequence that you have even forgotten what it was." "I beg your pardon, madam," cried Sir John, trying to rise, but Glynne laid her hand upon his chest and kept him back. "It was no trifle, and it is no joke for your Uncle James to launch out in his confounded haughty, military way, and try to take the reins from my hands. I'm master here. I remember now; it was about Rob." "Indeed, papa!" said Glynne, with a sad tone in her voice. "Yes, finding fault about his training. I don't want him to go about like some confounded foot-racing fellow, but he's my son-in-law elect, and he shall do as he pleases. What next, I wonder? Your uncle will be wanting to manage my farm." Glynne remained very thoughtful and silent for a few minutes, during which time her father continued to fume, and utter expressions of annoyance, till Glynne said suddenly as she looked up in his face,-- "You were wrong, papa, dear. You should not quarrel with Uncle James." "Wrong? Wrong? Why, the girl's mad," cried Sir John. "Do you approve of his taking your future husband to task over his amusements?" "I don't know," said Glynne slowly, as she turned her great, frank-looking eyes upon her father. "I don't know, papa, dear. I don't think I do; but Uncle James is so good and wise, and I know he loves me very much." "Of course he does; so does everybody else," cried the baronet, excitedly. "I should like to see the man who did not. But I will not have his interference here, and I'm very glad--very glad indeed--that he is going." "Uncle James meant it for the best, I'm sure, papa," said Glynne, thoughtfully, "and it was wrong of you to quarrel with him." "I tell you I did not quarrel with him, Glynne; he quarrelled with me," roared Sir John.