“St. Quentin,” she said, feeling very much astounded by her own daring, “I’ve come to ask a favour of you; and please—please be very kind, and don’t ask any questions or be angry when you hear what I want. Do say you’ll be kind!”
“Well, that’s a nice modest request, anyhow,” her cousin said, smiling a little. “What awful things have you been doing? Oh, of course, I’m not to ask. If you were a boy I should guess you to be in a scrape, but girls keep clear of those things, don’t they?”
“Don’t laugh,” said Sydney; “at least, I would rather you laughed than were angry. St. Quentin, please don’t think me horribly ungrateful, but may—can I change the watch you gave me on my birthday?”
“What, don’t you like it?” said St. Quentin slowly.
“Oh, I do! I do!” she cried; “but, please, you said you wouldn’t ask questions, and I want to change it!”
“Who will do the job for you?” her cousin said. “I ordered the watch from Oliver’s in Donisbro’, if you wish to know; but mind, I won’t have you poking about changing things yourself.”
“Miss Osric said she knew her father would change it for me, if you gave permission,” said Sydney. “St. Quentin, I can see you are vexed.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, a little bit impatiently, “but I should like to get at the bottom of this, Sydney. Can’t you tell me straight out what’s wrong?”
“No, I couldn’t,” she assured him, “and nothing is wrong really, on my honour! Miss Osric knows all about it, and she is ever so wise and experienced!”
“A Methuselah of twenty-three years, isn’t she?” St. Quentin said, smiling despite his vexation. “Well, Sydney, I suppose I must let you go your own way. Put the matter into the hands of your mentor’s father, and have nothing personally to do with it, that’s all.”