'Nowhere particular--come along; don't be fool, Maud.' 'This leads to Church Scarsdale.' 'A yes indeed! wat sweet place! bote we need not a walk all the way to there.' 'I'd rather not walk outside the grounds to-day, Madame.' 'Come, Maud, you shall not be fool--wat you mean, Mademoiselle?' said the stalworth lady, growing yellow and greenish with an angry mottling, and accosting me very gruffly. 'I don't care to cross the stile, thank you, Madame. I shall remain at this side.' 'You shall do wat I tell you!' exclaimed she. 'Let go my arm, Madame, you hurt me,' I cried. She had griped my arm very firmly in her great bony hand, and seemed preparing to drag me over by main force. 'Let me go,' I repeated shrilly, for the pain increased. 'La!' she cried with a smile of rage and a laugh, letting me go and shoving me backward at the same time, so that I had a rather dangerous tumble. I stood up, a good deal hurt, and very angry, notwithstanding my fear of her. 'I'll ask papa if I am to be so ill-used.' 'Wat av I done?' cried Madame, laughing grimly from her hollow jaws; I did all I could to help you over--'ow could I prevent you to pull back and tumble if you would do so? That is the way wen you petites Mademoiselles are naughty and hurt yourself they always try to make blame other people. Tell a wat you like--you think I care?' 'Very well, Madame.' 'Are a you coming?' 'No.' She looked steadily in my face and very wickedly. I gazed at her as with dazzled eyes--I suppose as the feathered prey do at the owl that glares on them by night. I neither moved back nor forward, but stared at her quite helplessly. 'You are nice pupil--charming young person! So polite, so obedient, so amiable! I will walk towards Church Scarsdale,' she continued, suddenly breaking through the conventionalism of her irony, and accosting me in savage accents. 'You weel stay behind if you dare. I tell you to accompany--do you hear?' More than ever resolved against following her, I remained where I was, watching her as she marched fiercely away, swinging her basket as though in imagination knocking my head off with it. She soon cooled, however, and looking over her shoulder, and seeing me still at the other side of the stile, she paused, and beckoned me grimly to follow her. Seeing me resolutely maintain my position, she faced about, tossed her head, like an angry beast, and seemed uncertain for a while what course to take with me. She stamped and beckoned furiously again. I stood firm. I was very much frightened, and could not tell to what violence she might resort in her exasperation. She walked towards me with an inflamed countenance, and a slight angry wagging of the head; my heart fluttered, and I awaited the crisis in extreme trepidation. She came close, the stile only separating us, and stopped short, glaring and grinning at me like a French grenadier who has crossed bayonets, but hesitates to close. CHAPTER XVI _DOCTOR BRYERLY LOOKS IN_