"See what it is, Miss Wynter, to have a hard-hearted guardian." He shrugs his shoulders.

Perpetua makes him a little bow, and follows the professor out of the conservatory.
"If you are tired," says the professor, somewhat curtly, and without looking at her, "I should think the best thing you could do would be to go to bed!" This astounding advice receives but little favor at Miss Wynter's hands.
"I am tired of your brother," says she promptly.

"He is as tiresome a creation as I know--but not of your sister's party; and--I'm too old to be sent to bed, even by a _Guardian!!"_ She puts a very big capital to the last word.
"I don't want to send you to bed," says the professor simply.
"Though I think little girls like you----" "I am not a little girl," indignantly.
"Certainly you are not a big one," says he.

It is an untimely remark.

Miss Wynter's hitherto ill-subdued anger now bursts into flame.
"I can't help it if I'm not big," cries she.