silly boy!--you actually dare to raise your hand against him! Very
well, very good. I am beginning to think that you cannot understand kind
treatment, but require to be treated in a very different and humiliating
fashion. Go now directly and beg his pardon," she added in a stern and
peremptory tone as she pointed to St. Jerome, "Do you hear me?"

I followed the direction of her finger with my eye, but on that member
alighting upon St. Jerome's coat, I turned my head away, and once more
felt my heart beating violently as I remained where I was.

"What? Did you not hear me when I told you what to do?"

I was trembling all over, but I would not stir.

"Koko," went on my grandmother, probably divining my inward sufferings,
"Koko," she repeated in a voice tender rather than harsh, "is this you?"

"Grandmamma, I cannot beg his pardon for--" and I stopped suddenly, for
I felt the next word refuse to come for the tears that were choking me.

"But I ordered you, I begged of you, to do so. What is the matter with
you?"

"I-I-I will not--I cannot!" I gasped, and the tears, long pent up and
accumulated in my breast, burst forth like a stream which breaks its
dikes and goes flowing madly over the country.

"C'est ainsi que vous obeissez a votre seconde mere, c'est ainsi que
vous reconnaissez ses bontes!" remarked St. Jerome quietly, "A genoux!"