This morning at eight-thirty I went to the nursery.
The Baroness tried to speak to me. I held up my hand. "Not a word from you, or something terrible will happen."
Fräulein von Schoenberg, who is really a sweet girl, offered some respectful advice. I begged her to be silent. If the door had been locked I would have forced it with the dagger I carried in my bosom.
Lucretia came and whispered. "I have decided to stay, and stay I will. Let them do their worst if they dare," I told her.
I changed the children's curriculum. "You can drive every day; you can't have mother every day. Let's have some games."
I remained in the nursery till all the children were asleep. They partook of the breakfast, lunch and dinner I ordered for myself. A great treat for them. We were very happy.
But I waited in vain for interference. Nothing happened to clear the situation. Those questions were still unanswered when I returned to my apartments.
I had just sat down to read the evening papers, when Prince George entered unannounced.
"If ever again you dare disobey my commands"—he shouted without preliminaries.
I cut him short: "Are the children yours or mine?"