"Coax her."
"Coaxing never has any effect on her."
"Would she relent if Mrs. Allardyce were to call for you?"
Now, I have been cautiously sounding Aunt about Mrs. Allardyce, and I have discovered that she disapproves of her. So I said: "It would be useless. I will ask Aunt if I may go, but I feel almost sure that she will not consent."
This evening, when Aunt was in an unusually genial mood, I plucked up heart of grace and asked her.
"Marguerite," she said impressively, "you know that I do not attend church here."
"But, Aunt," I persisted, quakingly, "couldn't I go alone? It is not very far—and I will be very careful."
Aunt merely gave me a look that said about forty distinct and separate things, and I was turning away in despair when Mrs. Saxby—bless her heart—said: "I really think it would be no harm to let the child go."
As Aunt attaches great importance to Mrs. Saxby's opinion, she looked at me relentingly and said: "Well, I will think it over and let you know in the morning, Marguerite."
Now, everything depends on the sort of humour Aunt is in in the morning.