To please him she would struggle with her crooked letters for an hour at a time, but even his influence and authority had its limits.
"Must I ?" she said one day, in answer to a demand of his for more faithful study; "must I ?" And throwing up her proud little head, and shaking back with a trick she had her streaming red hair, she looked straight at him from her blue-gray eyes and asked the monosyllabic question, "Why ?" And The Duke looked back at her with his slight smile for a few moments and then said in cold, even tones: "I really don't know why," and turned his back on her.

Immediately she sprang at him, shook him by the arm, and, quivering with passion, cried: "You are not to speak to me like that, and you are not to turn your back that way!" "What a little princess it is," he said admiringly, "and what a time she will give herself some day!" Then he added, smiling sadly: "Was I rude, Gwen?
Then I am sorry." Her rage was gone, and she looked as if she could have held him by the feet.

As it was, too proud to show her feelings, she just looked at him with softening eyes, and then sat down to the work she had refused.

This was after the advent of The Pilot at Swan Creek, and, as The Duke rode home with me that night, after long musing he said with hesitation: "She ought to have some religion, poor child; she will grow up a perfect little devil.

The Pilot might be of service if you could bring him up.