"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.

"It isn't my fault.

I can't help it either that papa sent me to you.