She set her teeth and stared at her glass of water.

“What about my coming-out gown?” she asked.

“I have written him about your debut,” said Kathleen soothingly.

“Oh!  What did the old beast say?”

“He writes,” began Kathleen pleasantly, “that he considers eighteen an unsuitable age for a young girl to make her bow to New York society.”

“Did he say that?” exclaimed Geraldine, furious.  “Very well; I shall write to Colonel Mallett and tell him I simply will not endure it any longer.  I’ve had enough education; I’m suffocated with it!  Besides, I dislike it.  I want a dinner-gown and a ball-gown and my hair waved and dressed on top of my head instead of bunched half way!  I want to have an engagement pad—­I want to have places to go to—­people expecting me; I want silk stockings and pretty underclothes!  Doesn’t that old fool understand what a girl wants and needs?”

She half rose from her seat at the table, pushing away the fruit which a servant offered; and, laying her hands flat on the cloth, leaned forward, eyes flashing ominously.

“I’m getting tired of this,” she said.  “If it goes on, I’ll probably run away.”

“So will I,” said Scott, “but I’ve good reasons.  They haven’t done anything to you.  You’re making a terrible row about nothing.”

“Yes, they have!  They’ve suppressed me, stifled me, bottled me up, tinkered at me, overgroomed me, dressed me ridiculously, and stuffed my mind.  And I’m starved all the time!  O Kathleen, I’m hungry! hungry!  Can’t you understand?

“They’ve made me into something I was not.  I’ve never yet had a chance to be myself.  Why couldn’t they let me be it?  I know—­I know that when at last they set me free because they have to—­I—­I’ll act like a fool; I’ll not know what to do with my liberty—­I’ll not know how to use it—­how to understand or be understood....  Tell Mr. Tappan that!  Tell him that it is all silly and wrong!  Tell him that a young girl never forgets when other girls laugh at her because she never had any money, and dresses like a frump, and wears her hair like a baby!...  And if he doesn’t listen to us, some day Scott and I will show him and the others how we feel about it!  I can make as much trouble as Scott can; I’ll do it, too——­”

“Geraldine!”

“Very well.  I’m boiling inside when I think of—­some things.  The injustice of a lot of hateful, snuffy old men deciding on what sort of underclothes a young girl shall wear!...  And I will make my debut!  I will!  I will!”

“Dearest——­”

“Yes, I will!  I’ll write to them and complain of Mr. Tappan’s stingy, unjust treatment of us both——­”

“Let me do the writing, dear,” said Kathleen quietly.  And she rose from the table and left the dining-room, both arms around the necks of the Seagrave twins, drawing them close to her sides—­closer when her sidelong glance caught the sullen bitterness on the darkening features of the boy, and when on the girl’s fair face she saw the flushed, wide-eyed, questioning stare.