"M'm!" William coughed gently, and assumed an expression which he hoped conveyed the air of inflexibility he deemed suited to the responsible position thus conferred on him. "I'll see to it," he said; and felt relieved when the gong sounded in advance of Prudence's entry, and so deferred the moment for exercising his authority. He was less confident than Agatha that firmness on his part would produce the result desired. He had in mind the occasion when he had insisted upon an apology before the resumption of fraternal relations with his young sister. He had maintained a dignified silence until the thing threatened to become ridiculous, and still the apology had not been forthcoming: he had been forced to capitulate; and the memory of that defeat rankled. But the lesson had been salutary in so far that it discouraged him from straining his authority to a point whence it aggravated to open revolt. Defiance was a quality which defeated William's statesmanship. Prudence came running down the stairs as the rest of the family crossed the hall on the way to the dining-room. "You ran it pretty close, Prue," her father said, as she took the last couple of stairs at a jump and landed laughing beside him. He patted the little hand she slipped within his arm. "You are precisely two minutes late," Miss Agatha observed. "I think you might have made a greater effort to be punctual." "I might, of course, have slid down the banisters," Prudence retorted. "Tut, tut!" Mr Graynor patted the small hand again in gentle reproof. "You are tomboy enough without scandalising us to that extent." Save that he held his head a little higher on passing behind her to his seat at table, William disregarded her presence, a sign by which Prudence recognised that she was once again in disgrace. It occasioned her therefore something of a shock when William approached her later during the evening and requested a few minutes of her time. He had something of importance, he announced, which he wished to say. This request in its unexpectedness deprived her for the moment of breath. She was attracted by his speech and puzzled. She found herself wondering amazedly what kind of confidence William intended to repose in her. William found her silence embarrassing; he had expected her to give him a cue. He cleared his throat, nervously fingering the arrangement of his tie. Prudence began to feel sympathetic. She believed he was about to confess to some romantic attachment, although there was not, so far as she knew, any woman of their acquaintance likely to inspire sentiment in him. If William were in love, that might account for his preoccupation during dinner. "Please give me your whole attention," he said, which was a superfluous remark even for a commencement; it was so obvious that he was receiving what he asked for. "It is a little difficult for me, a little--ahem!-- embarrassing to say what I wish to say in view of your inexperience."