I moved in the direction of the house.  He barred my path.

“You are not going to escape me like that, my fine lady.  I will make you listen to me this time or you will hear more about it,” and he seized me angrily by the wrist.

I cannot bear the touch of any one—­it is one of my idiosyncrasies.  With my disengaged hand I struck him a vigorous blow on the nose, and wrenching myself free sprang away, saying, “How dare you lay a finger on me!  If you attempt such a thing again I’ll make short work of you.  Mark my words, or you’ll get something more than a bleeding nose next time, I promise you.”

“You’ll hear more of this!  You’ll hear more of this!  You fierce, wild, touch-me-not thing,” he roared.

“Yes; my motto with men is touch-me-not, and it is your own fault if I’m fierce.  If children attempt to act the role of a man with adult tools, they are sure to cut themselves.  Hold hard a bit, honey, till your whiskers grow,” I retorted as I departed, taking flying leaps over the blossom-burdened flower-beds.

At tea that night, after gazing interestedly at Mr Hawden’s nose for some time, uncle Julius inquired, “in the name of all that’s mysterious, what the devil have you been doing to your nose?  You look as though you had been on the spree.”

I was quaking lest he would get me into a fine scrape, but he only muttered, “By Jove!” with great energy, and glowered menacingly across the table at me.

After tea he requested an interview with grannie, which aroused my curiosity greatly.  I was destined to hear all about it next morning.  When breakfast was over grannie called me into her room and interviewed me about Mr Hawden’s interview.  She began without any preliminaries: 

“Mr Hawden has complained of your conduct.  It grieves me that any young man should have to speak to me of the behaviour of my own grand-daughter.  He says you have been flirting with him.  Sybylla, I scarcely thought you would be so immodest and unwomanly.”

On hearing this my thoughts of Frank Hawden were the reverse of flattering.  He had persecuted me beyond measure, yet I had not deigned to complain of him to either uncle, grannie, or auntie, as I might reasonably have done, and have obtained immediate redress.  He had been the one to blame in the case, yet for the rebuffs he had brought upon himself, went tattling to my grandmother.

Is that all you have to say, grannie?”

“No.  He wants to marry you, and has asked my consent.  I told him it all rested with yourself and parents.  What do you say?”

“Say,” I exclaimed, “grannie, you are only joking, are you not?”

“No, my child, this is not a matter to joke about.”

“Marry that creature!  A boy!” I uttered in consternation.