Affairs were at a deadlock. How was it possible to negotiate if one side would insist on having its own way? “It’s a sort of diplomatic _impasse_,” said Archie. “What’s to be done? Suppose we take Biffin by main force and put him under the cucumber frame, and keep him fastened down? There’d be no more bad decisions then.” “Plenty of bad language, though,” said some person of wit. “And we wouldn’t release him,” said Carteret, “until Grace had actually played an innings without damaging the eyesight of the cucumbers or otherwise mutilating them.” “I call Grace’s behaviour beas’ly bad form,” said the Harrow captain. “Oh, I know it’s beastly bad form,” said Grace; “but then, you see, Tommy, one has to play pretty low down to gain the appreciation of one’s family.” Had Grace’s cause only been a just one, the manner in which she maintained it against all comers must have evoked unqualified admiration. The cabal was powerless in the face of her despotic attitude. They said hard things, and they said rude things, as brothers will, even if they have a sister who is a first-class angel of an unimpeachable appearance. But although Grace stood alone, discredited, out of favour, a fallen idol, and a mark for some very cutting observations, mostly the Harrow captain’s, who saw his moment, and, boylike, was exulting in it--despite all this, Grace continued to consume toast and marmalade as valiantly as ever. Now and then she diversified this proceeding by looking daggers at Toddles, when that irrepressible little clergyman made faces at her. Now and then she introduced a brief remark on her own account, that on examination proved to be as flinty and hard-edged as a chip of granite. It was plain that the exercise of a considerable force of character had been the secret of Grace’s ascendancy and pre-eminence in regard to these great men. And having obtained her power, she did not hesitate to abuse it, as they say her sex generally do. “In my opinion,” said Archie, “there’s been a mistake in Grace’s destiny. Her arrogance and sweet unreasonableness makes her look a bit out of drawing, I think. Strikes me that Nature planned her for a Gladstone or a Mailyphist, and then made her a girl for fun. But I believe she simply doesn’t care what we think of her.” “Oh, yes, I do, you know, Archie,” said Grace; “I’m as cut up as can be. I’m quite put off my game. You had better let us have some more toast, Jane. Toddles, pass the marmalade--and the butter. Yes, I think I’ll have the butter, too.” However, in my eyes Grace’s splendid isolation had such a nobility, such a dignity, such a pathos of its own, that it struck me with some suddenness that a little magnanimity might not be altogether out of place. It was patent, however, that her brothers had such firm convictions on the point at issue that they were not likely to exercise it. Therefore, I had a try myself.