girl of about thirteen or fourteen, bursting into the room as the last speaker finished his sentence. ‘A dispute over me, as usual, I suppose. Never mind; you stick to your colours, Uncle Spines, and I won’t mind being martyred by people I despise. And happily the world is not made up entirely of old fogies.’
‘Thank you, Lesbia,’ said her mother; ‘you are very complimentary.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean you, mamma, of course. I mean the people who preach maidenly femininity and womanly nimminy-pimminity, and all that stuff.’
‘But I’m afraid I must plead guilty to liking that stuff myself.’
‘So much the worse, mamma, dear; you insist that the cap shall fit you, which I did not intend.’
‘Perhaps you will think differently when you are older, Lesbie,’ said her mother sorrowfully.
‘Not very likely, Jane,’ put in the uncle. ‘Not so long as she and I are within reach of each other.’
‘That’s right, uncle,’ said the girl; ‘you are the only sensible man I know.’
‘I may be the only one you know, Lesbie, because your experience of the world is not wide as yet; but you would over-rate me and under-rate others if you imagined that there are not at this day plenty of men who share my views on the education of girls, and would do as well by you as I can.’
‘Now to change the subject,’ said the young girl; ‘how about that machine; when’s it coming?’
‘What, the bicycle? It’s come, and I told Fenrake to have it all ready by eleven this morning. It’s about that now, I think.’
‘That’s all right; then I’ll run up and get on my ‘bikes’; the road looks quite dried up.’
