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‘It isn’t true!’ she cried passionately, bursting out of her retreat and confronting her cousin; ‘it’s cruel and unkind to say my jewels are shams! They are real–they are, they are!’

‘Hullo, Prissie!’ said her abandoned cousin; ‘so you combine jewel-dropping with eaves-dropping, eh?’

‘How dare you!’ cried Aunt Margarine, almost beside herself, ‘you odious little prying minx, setting up to teach your elders and your betters with your cut and dried priggish maxims! When I think how I have petted and indulged you all this time, and borne with the abominable litter you left in every room you entered–and now to find you are only a little, conceited, hypocritical impostor–oh, why haven’t I words to express my contempt for such conduct–why am I dumb at such a moment as this?’

‘Come, mother,’ said her son soothingly, ‘that’s not such a bad beginning; I should call it fairly fluent and expressive, myself.’

‘Be quiet, Dick! I’m speaking to this wicked child, who has obtained our love and sympathy and attention on false pretences, for which she ought to be put in prison–yes, in prison, for such a heartless trick on relatives who can ill afford to be so cruelly disappointed!’

‘But, aunt!’ expostulated poor Priscilla, ‘you always said you only kept the jewels as souvenirs, and that it did you so much good to hear me talk!’

‘Don’t argue with me, miss! If I had known the stones were wretched tawdry imitations, do you imagine for an instant—-?’

‘Now, mother,’ said Dick, ‘be fair–they were uncommonly good imitations, you must admit that!’

‘Indeed, indeed I thought they were real, the fairy never told me!’

‘After all,’ said Dick, ‘it’s not Priscilla’s fault. She can’t help it if the stones aren’t real, and she made up for quality by quantity anyhow; didn’t you, Prissie?’

‘Hold your tongue, Richard; she could help it, she knew it all the time, and she’s a hateful, sanctimonious little stuck-up viper, and so I tell her to her face!’

Priscilla could scarcely believe that kind, indulgent, smooth-spoken Aunt Margarine could be addressing such words to her; it frightened her so much that she did not dare to answer, and just then Cathie and Belle came into the room.

‘Oh, mother,’ they began penitently, ‘we’re so sorry, but we couldn’t find dear Prissie anywhere, so we haven’t picked up anything the whole afternoon!’

‘Ah, my poor darlings, you shall never be your cousin’s slaves any more. Don’t go near her, she’s a naughty, deceitful wretch; her jewels are false, my sweet loves, false! She has imposed upon us all, she does not deserve to associate with you!’

‘I always said Prissie’s jewels looked like the things you get on crackers!’ said Belle, tossing her head.

‘Now we shall have a little rest, I hope,’ chimed in Cathie.

‘I shall send her home to her parents this very night,’ declared Aunt Margarine; ‘she shall not stay here to pervert our happy household with her miserable gewgaws!’

Here Priscilla found her tongue. ‘Do you think I want to stay?’ she said proudly; ‘I see now that you only wanted to have me here because–because of the horrid jewels, and I never knew they were false, and I let you have them all, every one, you know I did; and I wanted you to mind what I said and not trouble about picking them up, but you would do it! And now you all turn round upon me like this! What have I done to be treated so? What have I done?’

‘Bravo, Prissie!’ cried Dick. ‘Mother, if you ask me, I think it serves us all jolly well right, and it’s a downright shame to bullyrag poor Prissie in this way!’

‘I don’t ask you,’ retorted his mother, sharply; ‘so you will kindly keep your opinions to yourself.’

‘Tra-la-la!’ sang rude Dick, ‘we are a united family–we are, we are, we are!’–a vulgar refrain he had picked up at one of the burlesque theatres he was only too fond of frequenting.