sent away if she preaches at us, 'cause I hate it; but she won't preach any
more, will you, Morty?" and Ethelyn smiled at her governess in a
wheedlesome way.

"Go on with your lessons," said Miss Morton, in a quiet tone, though she
was with difficulty repressing a desire to tell her pupil what she thought
of her.

"Yes, do," growled Reginald; "how can a fellow study when you're chattering
away with your shrill voice?"

"I haven't got a shrill voice," retorted Ethelyn, "have I, Patricia? Mamma
says a soft, low voice is very stylish,--correct, I mean, and I'm sure mine
is low and soft."

Ethelyn said this in such an affected whisper that Patty had to smile.

But Reginald said:

"Pooh, of course you have when you put on airs like that, but naturally
your voice is a cross between a locomotive whistle and scratching on a
slate."

"It isn't!"

"It is!"

"Well, yours isn't a bit better, anyway."

"I didn't say it was, did I?"