"Well, I guess you are right," said Lady Otterburn. "I guess I'll commence right away and follow your example. And so will Edward. Now, mind, Edward, don't you dare to say a single word that you don't mean, and just you tell your Aunt Sarah exactly what you think as long as she's with us. And so will I. And all the people who are coming this evening shall be told to do the same."
"Eh? What?" exclaimed Aunt Sarah.
III.
When Aunt Sarah came down into the great hall at twenty minutes to nine that evening she found it full of young men and women who had arrived about an hour before, and whom she had kept waiting ten minutes for their dinner. She did not apologize for her late appearance. That was not her custom. She singled out a young man of the company and said, "How do you do, Henry? I am pleased to see you at Castle Gide again. You used to come here frequently in happier times."
"They were not happier times for me, Aunt Sarah," replied the young man, rather nervously. "My chief recollection of them is that I was generally sent to bed before dinner for getting into mischief."
"Ah!" said Aunt Sarah. "That is the way to treat mischievous boys. And you don't bear malice."
"I am afraid I do," said the young man. "I was treated most unjustly."
"By whom, pray?" inquired Aunt Sarah, beginning to bridle.
"Very occasionally by Uncle Otterburn," said the young man. "Invariably by you."
"Upon my word!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah. "That is a pretty way to talk!"