“Were they all pleasant to you after that?” he asked.

“No, papa; they haven’t been pleasant to me at all to-day; and Uncle Edward has said hateful things about me, and to me,” she went on, her cheek flushing and her eyes flashing with anger, half forgetting, in the excitement of passion, to whom she was telling her story, and showing her want of self-control.

“And I very much fear,” he said, gravely, “that you were both passionate and impertinent.  Tell me just what passed.”

“If I do you’ll punish me, I know you will,” she burst out.  “Papa, don’t you think it’s a little mean to make me tell on myself and then punish me for what you find out in that way?”

“If my object was merely to give you pain, I think it would be mean enough,” he said, not at all unkindly; “but as I am seeking your best interests—­your truest happiness—­in trying to gain full insight into your character and conduct, meaning to discipline you only for your highest good, I think it is not mean or unkind.  From your unwillingness to confess to me, I fear you must have been in a great passion and very impertinent.  Is it not so?”

“Papa, I didn’t begin it; if I’d been let alone I shouldn’t have got in a passion or said anything saucy.”

“Possibly not; but what is that virtue worth which cannot stand the least trial?  You must learn to rule your own spirit, not only when everything goes smoothly with you, but under provocation; and in order to help you to learn that lesson—­or rather as a means toward teaching it to you—­I shall invariably punish any and every outbreak of temper and every impertinence of yours that come under my notice when I am at home.  Now, tell me exactly what passed between your Uncle Edward and yourself.”

Seeing there was no escape for her, Lulu complied, faithfully repeating every word of the short colloquy at the beach when she went down there directly after breakfast.

Her father listened in astonishment, his face growing sterner every moment.

“Lucilla,” he said, “you are certainly the most impertinent, insolent child I ever saw!  I don’t wonder you were afraid to let me know the whole truth in regard to this affair.  I am ashamed of your conduct toward both your Grandma Elsie and your Uncle Edward.  You must apologize to both of them, acknowledging that you have been extremely impertinent, and asking forgiveness for it.”

Lulu made no reply; her eyes were downcast, her face was flushed with passion, and wore a stubborn look.

“I won’t;” the words were on the tip of her tongue; she had almost spoken them, but restrained herself just in time; her father’s authority was not to be defied, as she had learned to her cost a year ago.

He saw the struggle that was going on in her breast.  “You must do it,” he said; “you may write your apologies, though, if you prefer that to speaking them.”

He opened a writing-desk that stood on a table close at hand, and seated her before it with paper, pen, and ink, and bade her write, at his dictation.