"I mean _really_: if you hold a vague threat of paying us a visit over our heads, you will keep us in a state of unnatural tidiness for days." I make a move toward retiring, but he still has hold of my hand.
"And about our walk ?" The others--boys and girls--have passed us: the servants have melted out of sight; so has mother; father is speaking to the butler in the passage--we are alone.
"Yes?
what about it ?" I ask, my eyes calmly resting on his.
"You will not forget it ?" "Not I!" reply I, lightly.

"I want to hear the end of the anecdote about father's nose! I cannot get over the idea of him in a stiff white petticoat: I thought of it at dinner, whenever I looked at him!" At the mention of father, his face falls a little.
"Nancy," he says, abruptly, taking possession of my other hand also, "why did you answer your father so shortly to-day?
Why did you look so scared when he tried to joke with you ?" "Ah, why ?" reply I, laughing awkwardly.
"You are not _afraid_ of him, surely ?" "Oh, no--not at all!" "Why do you speak in that sneering voice?
It is not your own voice; I have known you only twenty-four hours, and yet I can tell that." "I will not answer any more questions," reply I, recovering both hands with a sudden snatch: "and if you ask me any more, I will not take you out walking! there!" So I make off, laughing..