A Managing Woman

Meanwhile Ronald and Margot were holding a conclave on the third floor.
"I must get away from home at once!" cried the lad feverishly. "I can't
write in this atmosphere of antagonism. I breathe it in the air. It
poisons everything I do. If I am to have only three more months of
liberty, I must spend them in my own way, in the country with you,
Margot, away from all this fret and turmoil. It's my last chance. I
might as well throw up the sponge at once, if we are to stay here."

"Yes, we must go away; for father's sake as well as our own," replied
Margot slowly. She leant her head against the back of her chair, and
pushed the hair from her brow. Without the smile and the sparkle she
was astonishingly like her brother,--both had oval faces, well-marked
eyebrows, flexible scarlet lips, and hazel eyes, but the girl's chin was
made in a firmer mould, and the expression of dreamy abstraction which
characterised the boy's face was on hers replaced by animation and
alertness.

"Father will be miserable to-night because he flared out at supper; but
he'll flare again unless we put him out of temptation. He likes his own
way as much as we like ours, and it's so difficult for parents to
realise that their children are grown-up. We seem silly babies in his
eyes, and he longs to be able to shut us up in the nursery until we are
sorry, as he used to do in the old days. As for our own plans, Ron,
they are all settled. I was just waiting for a quiet opportunity to
tell you. I have been busy planning and scheming for some time back,
but it was only to-night that my clue arrived. Jack, my emissary,
slipped it into my hand after supper. Read that!"