“No, no, we did not say three or four days. I thought of that,” said Reine. “We shall return on Saturday. Don’t be angry, Aunt Susan. They were very kind, and we thought it was no harm.” Herbert gave her an indignant glance. It was on his lips to say, “It does not matter whether Aunt Susan is angry or not,” but looking at her, he thought better of it. “Yes,” he said after a pause, “we shall return on Saturday. They were very kind, as Reine says, and how visiting our cousins could possibly involve any harm--” “That is your own affair,” said Miss Susan; “I know what you mean, Herbert, and of course you are right, you are not children any longer, and must choose your own friends; well! Before you go, however, I should like to settle everything. To-night is my last night. Yes, it is too late to discuss that now. I don’t mean to say more at present. It went off very well, very pleasantly, but for that ridiculous interruption of Giovanna’s--” “I did not think it was ridiculous,” said Herbert. “It was very pretty. Does Giovanna displease you too?” Once more Reine pressed his arm. He was not always going to be coerced like this. If Miss Susan wants to be unjust and ungenerous, he was man enough, he felt, to meet her to the face. “It was very ridiculous, I thought,” she said with a sigh, “and I told her so. I don’t suppose she meant any harm. She is very ignorant, and knows nothing about the customs of society. Thank heaven, she can’t stay very long now.” “Why can’t she stay?” cried Herbert, alarmed. “Aunt Susan, I don’t know what has come over you. You used to be so kind to everybody, but now it is the people I particularly like you are so furious against. Why? those girls, who are as pretty and as pleasant as possible, and just the kind of companions Reine wants, and Madame Jean, who is the most charming person I ever saw in this house. Ignorant! I think she is very accomplished. How she sang last night, and what an eye she has for the picturesque! I never admired Whiteladies so much as this morning, when she took us over it. Aunt Susan, don’t be so cross. Are you disappointed in Reine, or in me, that you are so hard upon the people we like most?” “The people you like most?” cried Miss Susan aghast. “Yes, Aunt Susan, I like them too,” said Reine, bravely putting herself by her brother’s side. I believe they both thought it was a most chivalrous and high-spirited thing they were doing, rejecting experience and taking rashly what seemed to them the weaker side. The side of the accused against the judge, the side of the young against the old. It seemed so natural to do that. The two stood together in their foolishness in the old hall, all decorated in their honor, and confronted the dethroned queen of it with a smile. She stood baffled and thunderstruck, gazing at them, and scarcely knew what to say.