"You will not be replaced, Hester," she said huskily, and cleared her throat. "Athol, I appreciate that you no doubt have my welfare in mind, but you will not dismiss my staff, or indeed give them any instructions at all. Miss Latterly is in my employ, not yours, and she will stay here as long as I wish her to and she is willing."

"You are upset, my dear," Athol said after a moment's hesitation in amazement at her outburst. "When you have had time to reconsider, you will realize that what I say is right." He nodded several times to emphasize his certainty.

"It is not right!" she contradicted him, coming into the room and facing him squarely. "Certainly I am upset that Melville is dead, poor creature, and I am upset about the manner of his death—" She corrected herself. "Her death! The whole thing is a most tragic matter altogether. But I am plain angry that you should choose to dismiss my staff without reference to me or my wishes."

"It is for your good, my dear Perdita—"

"I don't care whose good it is for!" she shouted at him. "Or whose good you think it is! You will not make my decisions for me." She took a deep breath and resumed in a normal voice. "And anyway, you are wrong. It is not for my good that  should be shut away from knowing what is going on. What use am I to anybody, especially myself, if life passes me by? Would you allow me to decide for you what you should know and what you shouldn't?"

He laughed abruptly. "That is hardly comparable, my dear girl. I know an infinitely greater amount about the world and its ways than you do."

"Of course you do!" she rejoined smartly. "Nobody told you you should stay in the nursery and drink milk for the rest of your life!"

"Really, Perdita!" He bridled, stepping backwards. "Your complete loss of composure rather proves what I say. You are overwrought and quite unable to think clearly. That is not a matter you should be discussing in front of Miss Latterly and Mr. Monk."

"Why not?" she demanded. "You are trying to dismiss Hester. Should that be done behind her back?"

"Perdita, please control yourself!" Athol was becoming seriously annoyed now. His rather thin patience was worn through. "Have Martha make you a cup of tea or something. This vindicates my judgment that this has all been too much for you. If you are not careful you will take a fit of the vapors, and then you can be no help to Gabriel or anyone else."