Craven.  But, my love—­

Julia.  Oh, go away, all of you.  Leave me.  I—­oh—­ (She gives way to a passion of tears.)

Paramore (reproachfully to Craven).  You’ve wounded her cruelly, Colonel Craven—­cruelly.

Craven.  But I didn’t mean to:  I said nothing.  Charteris:  was I harsh?

Charteris.  You forget the revolt of the daughters, Craven.  And you certainly wouldn’t have gone on like that to any grown up woman who was not your daughter.

Craven.  Do you mean to say that I am expected to treat my daughter the same as I would any other girl?

Paramore.  I should say certainly, Colonel Craven.

Craven.  Well, dash me if I will.  There!

Paramore.  If you take that tone, I have nothing more to say. (He crosses the room with offended dignity and posts himself with his back to the bookcase beside Charteris.)

Julia (with a sob).  Daddy.

Craven (turning solicitously to her).  Yes, my love.

Julia (looking up at him tearfully and kissing his hand).  Don’t mind them.  You didn’t mean it, Daddy, did you?

Craven.  No, no, my precious.  Come:  don’t cry.

Paramore (to Charteris, looking at Julia with delight).  How beautiful she is!

Charteris (throwing up his hands).  Oh, Lord help you, Paramore! (He leaves the bookcase and sits at the end of the couch farthest from the fire.  Meanwhile Sylvia arrives.)

Sylvia (contemplating Julia).  Crying again!  Well, you are a womanly one!

Craven.  Don’t worry your sister, Sylvia.  You know she can’t bear it.

Sylvia.  I speak for her good, Dad.  All the world can’t be expected to know that she’s the family baby.

Julia.  You will get your ears boxed presently, Silly.

Craven.  Now, now, now, my dear children, really now!  Come, Julia:  put up your handkerchief before Mrs. Tranfield sees you.  She’s coming along with Jo.

Julia (rising).  That woman again!

Sylvia.  Another row!  Go it, Julia!

Craven.  Hold your tongue, Sylvia. (He turns commandingly to Julia.)
Now look here, Julia.

Charteris.  Hallo!  A revolt of the fathers!

Craven.  Silence, Charteris. (To Julia, unanswerably.) The test of a man or woman’s breeding is how they behave in a quarrel.  Anybody can behave well when things are going smoothly.  Now you said to-day, at that iniquitous club, that you were not a womanly woman.  Very well:  I don’t mind.  But if you are not going to behave like a lady when Mrs. Tranfield comes into this room, you’ve got to behave like a gentleman; or fond as I am of you, I’ll cut you dead exactly as I would if you were my son.

Paramore (remonstrating).  Colonel Craven—­