"Oh, Percival! And Honor is so kind to you!"
"I know, I know; but she tries to rule me, Aunt Maggie!"
"And ruling you want," Honor cried, "as your Aunt Maggie well knows. Spare the pickle and spoil the rod!"
"You've got it wrong!" said Percival with scornful triumph, and after he had stalked away, his head thrown up in an action that Aunt Maggie well remembered in Roly, she sought to placate Honor with thoughts that were frequently coming to her in those days. "He is getting big, Honor. I think we forget how he is growing. We mustn't keep him in too tightly."
Then there was Miss Purdie. "To my face!" cried Miss Purdie, fluttering into "Post Offic" one afternoon, "to my face he called the sum a beastly sum—the sum, mind you, I had set him myself! A beastly sum!" and then completely spoilt the horror of it by sighing and winding up, "but he is such a sweet. So lovable! So merry!"
"He's growing, you see," joined Aunt Maggie.
"Of course, he is," agreed Miss Purdie. "It's just his spirit. He's so manly!" and she gave herself a little shake and said: "Oh, I like a manly boy!"
Still, the truculence of character that had brought her warring down to "Post Offic" remained to be settled. Moreover, the boy's mind was developing outside the range of Miss Purdie's primers and exercise books. "He wants Latin," said Miss Purdie. "He wants algebra. He wants Euclid!" and the ladies decided that his tuition had better be handed over to Miss Purdie's brother, who could supply these correctives. They shook hands on it and agreed that Mr. Purdie should take over the duties on the morrow. On the doorstep Miss Purdie repeated the necessity with terrible emphasis: "He wants Latin! He wants algebra! But I shall miss our lessons together! Oh, dear, how I shall miss them!"
She hurried home with little sniffs which she strove to check by repeating very fiercely: "He wants Latin!"
II