"Really, Antoinette, you are a perfectly exasperating child. All this comes from trying to treat you like a reasonable being. Your father said that what you really need is a good thrashing, and I'm inclined to agree with him now, though I insisted on having you in, and discussing things with you from the standpoint of pure thought. I shan't waste any more time on you—you can go back to your room, and stay there till your father gets an answer to his telegram to your Aunt Margaret."
"Aunt Maggie!"
"Yes," cried Sir Gambier, "you're going to Southsea, to stay with your Aunt Maggie till your confounded school re-opens or the crack of doom falls—whichever happens first. You're too much trouble at home—going about with a face like a plaster saint, while in reality you're traipsing over the country with men."
"Father, I wasn't traipsing. Oh, please don't send me to Aunt Maggie's—I shall die." This was that terrible coercion from outside which so effectually routs the forces of sixteen.
"My dear little girl," said her mother, who had climbed back to her standpoint of pure thought, "I know you will be reasonable now, and—I think I may be quite sure of that too—grateful afterwards. Your father and I are really doing you a great kindness in sending you to your aunt's—here you would never be free from the persecutions of that Furlonger."
"Mother, it wasn't persecutions. I liked it."
"Antoinette, I shall really begin to think you are utterly silly. To put the matter on its lowest, most materialistic footing, don't you realise that in associating with a man like that you are seriously damaging your prospects?"
"My prospects?"
"Yes—your prospects of making a good marriage and doing credit to your family. Come, don't stare at me so blankly. You must realise that you are now approaching—if not actually arrived at—a marriageable age, and that you must do nothing to damage——"
"But, mother, I don't want ever to marry. Really, I don't want to talk about such things. It makes me feel—oh, mother, don't you see it's bad form?"