"What's come over the girl?" demanded Mr. Blithers, completely non-plused. "She's never acted like this before, Lou."
"Some silly notion about being made a laughingstock, I gather," said his wife. "Heaven knows I've talked to her till I'm utterly worn out. She says she won't be bullied into even meeting the Prince, much less marrying him. I've never known her to be so pig-headed. Usually I can make her see things in a sensible way. She would have married the duke, I'm sure, if—if you hadn't put a stop to it on account of his so-called habits. She—"
"Well, it's turned out for the best, hasn't it? Isn't a prince better than a duke?"
"You've said all that before, Will. I wanted her to run down with me this morning to talk the ball over with Mrs. King, and what do you think happened?"
"She wouldn't go?"
"Worse than that. She wouldn't let me go. Now, things are coming to a pretty pass when—"
"Never mind. I'll talk to her," said Mr. Blithers, somewhat bleakly despite his confident front. "She loves her old dad. I can do anything with her."
"She's on a frightfully high horse lately," sighed Mrs. Blithers fretfully. "It—it can't be that young Scoville, can it?"
"If I thought it was, I'd—I'd—" There is no telling what Mr. Blithers would have done to young Scoville, at the moment, for he couldn't think of anything dire enough to inflict upon the suspected meddler.
"In any event, it's dreadfully upsetting to me, Will. She—she won't listen to anything. And here's something else: She declares she won't stay here for the ball on Friday night."