He was warmly welcomed by Pa and Ma. I kept near Ma while tea was being served. When Old Grayling began to jockey me aside, I fled. He followed me to the garden, to the dairy, to the kitchen. I took the direction of a building to which no lady would be seen going. Desperation drove me to such a ruse. It was successful. The Graylings were renowned for gallantry.

I ran from there to the pigs again, risking the fleas for an unsuspected retreat. After a time Ma called. After some more time Pa hailed me with rousing coo-ees. The pigs talked to me but did not betray me. At length, peeping between the logs of the sty, I saw Mr. Grayling departing at racing speed guiding his intractable horse safely along the difficult track. I slid up the back way and into the kitchen. Ma and Pa, who had lingered watching the driving skill, were talking about me.

“She must be mad,” it was Ma’s voice. “To disappear without rhyme or reason.”

“She shows no signs of madness,” said Pa. “She might want to think.”

At this I appeared. Ma demanded an explanation of my antics. I gave none.

“You make yourself very agreeable to the young men, but flout poor old Mr. Grayling. He waited till too late to drive home with that flighty horse just to say good-bye to you. Now is not the time to miss your manners if you want to live down the scandal and trouble you have caused.”

Pa came with me to feed the pigs. “Your mother is right, you know, my girl. When we are kind to fine young men, it is not hospitality, it is self-indulgence. I always feel that any welcome I can give the Graylings is feeble compared with the welcome they give me.”

The cause of my action seemed too indecent to tell Pa. As for telling Ma I would rather have had her report me to the doctor and clergyman as raving mad. She would blame me for Old Grayling’s sickening aberration, and constant misunderstanding hurt. “Oh, Pa,” I said, “I can’t bear any more scandalmongering and fuss. I would as soon go and live with the pigs like the Prodigal Son.”

This surprised Pa. He sat upon the pig-sty fence talking to me for a long time. “And you wanted to be famous,” he said banteringly. “What you are undergoing is fame, the thing you wanted, in a very mild form.”

“I didn’t want bad notoriety: it must have been fair renown that I dreamed about.”

“There is only one percent of that, mixed with exaggeration and scandal and envy. No one can make it otherwise, not even royalty, though it commands the press and the army. The smoking rooms are full of another story right around the world, always have been, even in days when one’s head could be cut off for a disrespectful word about those in authority.” Pa here quoted Byron.