'I always said something like this would happen, Ursula. I have told your uncle often,--Brian, why don't you speak?--yes, indeed, I have told him often that I never met any one so strong-minded and self-willed. You need not laugh, Sara,--unless you do it to provoke me,--but I have been like a mother to Ursula. Thank heaven, my daughters are not of this pattern! they do not mistake eccentricity for goodness, or flaunt ridiculous notions in the faces of their elders.' This was too bad of Aunt Philippa; only she had lost her temper, and was feeling utterly aggrieved, and Mrs. Fullerton, who was a meddlesome, good-humoured woman, and who had nothing of which to complain in life except a little over-plumpness and too much money, was agreeing with her like a good neighbour and friend. Uncle Max was smiling, and pulling his beard behind his paper; but he made no attempt to check the flow of feminine eloquence. He had said his say like a man, and had taken my part behind my back, and he knew women were like new wine,--very sound and sweet, but they must find their vent. Aunt Philippa would be kinder ever after if we let her scold us properly, and took our scolding with a good grace. Once or twice Uncle Brian let his eye-glasses dangle, and spoke a peevish word or two. 'Nonsense, my dear! have I not said over and over again that this is none of our business? Ursula is old enough to know her own mind; if she chooses to be eccentric we cannot hinder her. All this talk goes for nothing.' 'Ah, but, Mr. Garston, young people want guidance,' observed Mrs. Fullerton impressively, for Aunt Philippa was beginning to sob, partly from the effects of wasted eloquence, and perhaps with a little shortness of breathing: anyway, her anger was working itself out. 'If you were to advise Ursula as you would Sara, your influence might induce her to change her mind.' 'I cannot endorse your opinion, Mrs. Fullerton,' returned Uncle Brian drily. 'I am far too keen an observer of human nature to think we can talk sense to deaf ears with any benefit.--Ursula, my child,' turning to me with a smile that might have been kinder, but perhaps he meant it to be so, 'there is not a grain of sense in your scheme: in spite of Cunliffe's eloquence, it will not hold water; in fact, in a little while you will be glad to come back to us again. When you do, I think I can promise that we will not laugh at you more than once a day, and then moderately.'