Perceiving what Richard was about, she came bounding in, and making a wilful wind with her pinafore, blew away the leaf he was dividing and knocked a book of gold-leaf to the floor. The book-mender rose, took her in a firm grasp, and proceeded to expel her.

She threw herself on the floor, and began to scream. Richard picked her up, laid her down in the hall, and closed and locked the door by which she had entered. Vixen lay where he had laid her, and went on screaming.

By and by her screaming ceased and a few minutes later the handle of the door was tried. Richard took no notice. Then came a knock. Richard called out, “Who’s there?” but no answer came except a repetition of the knock, to which he paid no attention. The knock was repeated twice more, but Richard went on with his work.

Suddenly another door, which he had not thought of locking, burst open and in sailed Miss Malliver, the governess, tall and slight, with the dignity she put on for her inferiors, to whom she was as insolent as she was cringing to those above her.

“Man!” she exclaimed, the moment her wrath would allow her to speak, “what do you mean by your insolence?”

“If you allude to my putting the child out of the room,” answered Richard, “I mean that she is rude, and that I will not be annoyed with her.”

“You shall be turned out of the house.”

“In the meantime,” rejoined Richard, who had a natural repugnance to Miss Malliver and was now thoroughly angry, “I will turn you out of the room too, and for the same reason.”

“I dare you!” cried Miss Malliver.

Richard quietly laid aside the tool he was using, and approached her deliberately. Not believing he would presume to touch her, the woman kept her ground defiantly until his hands were on the point of seizing her. Then she uttered a shriek and fled. Richard closed the door behind her, locked it also, and returned to his work.

But he was not to be left in peace. Another hand came to the door, and a voice demanding entrance followed the foiled attempt to open it. He recognized the voice as lady Ann’s and rose to admit her. But her ladyship stood motionless on the doormat, erect and cool. Anger itself could not warm her—the fact that she was angry was plain only from the steely sparkle in her gray eyes.

“You forget yourself! You must leave the house!” she said.

“I have done nothing, my lady, except what it was necessary to do. I did not hurt the child in the least.”

“That is not the point. You must leave the house.”