--a stupid, sentimental, cowed,
old woman at whom the children laughed. She found now that the children
instead of laughing at her laughed with her, formed a phalanx of
protection around her and refused to be disobedient. Miss Jones herself
was discovered to have a dry, rather caustic, sense of humour that Aunt
Amy felt to be impertinence, but could not penetrate.

"And is that really how you teach them history, Miss Jones? Not quite
the simplest way, surely... I remember an excellent governess whom we
once had--"

"Perhaps," said Miss Jones, gently, "you would give them a history
lesson yourself, Miss Trefusis. I would be so glad to pick up any little
hints--"

"I have, of course, no time," said Aunt Amy hurriedly, "but, speaking
generally, I am afraid I can't approve altogether of your system."

"It isn't very good, I'm afraid," said Miss Jones weakly. "The children
would be glad, I know, to have a few hints from you if you could spare a
moment--"

Jeremy, who was listening, giggled, tried to turn the giggle into a
sneeze and choked.

"Jeremy!" said Aunt Amy severely.

"Oh, do look, Aunt Amy!" cried Mary, always Jeremy's faithful ally, "all
your hairpins are dropping out!"

She devoted herself then to Jeremy and worried him in every possible
way, and after two days of this he hated her with a deep and bitter
hatred, very different from that earlier teasing of Miss Jones. That had
sprung from a sudden delicious discovery of power, and had been directed
against no one. This was a real personal hatred that children of a less
solid and tenacious temperament than Jeremy would have been incapable of
feeling.

He did not laugh at her, he did not tease her, he no longer put out his
tongue at her. He was older than that now--he was simply reserved and
silent, watching her with his large eyes, his square body set, and
resolved as though he knew that his moment would come.

Her experience with him was baffling. She punished him, petted him, she
ignored him, she stormed at him; it seemed that she would do anything
could she only win from him an acknowledgment of her power, her
capability. But she could not. He only said: "Yes, Aunt Amy." "No, Aunt
Amy."

She burst out: "You're a sullen, wicked little boy, Jeremy. Do you know
what happens to little boys who sulk?"

"No, Aunt Amy."

"They grow into cross, bad-tempered men whom nobody likes and nobody
trusts. Do you want to be like that when you're a man?"

"I do