if you like," said Hector, with
lordly disdain. "It doesn't matter to _me_, and it certainly won't
matter to any one or anything else. You'll never hit anything--girls
never do. They can't throw a stone properly."

"You're very unkind, and--and--very horrid," said Dolly, nearly crying.
"It's very mean and un--it's not at all like knights long ago, always to
be saying mocking things of girls."

"Rubbish," said Hector. "Besides, if you come to that, girls or ladies
long ago didn't want to do things like--like men," the last word with a
little hesitation, for he knew Dolly was sharp enough to be down on him
if he talked big. "They stayed at home and did sensible things, for
women; cooking and tapestrying, and nursing wounded soldiers."

[Illustration]

"They had to go out to the battle-fields sometimes to get the wounded
soldiers--_there_!" said Dolly triumphantly. "And what's more, some of
them _did_ know how to fight, and did fight. Think of Jeanne d'Arc,
and--and--somebody, I forget her name, who defended her husband's
castle."

[Illustration]

"All right," said Hector. "I'm not quarrelling with your having a
catapult, and you can defend your husband's castle with it if you
like--that's to say if you ever get a husband. _I_ should think a girl
who knew how to sew nicely, and to keep her house very neat and
comfortable, a much nicer wife than one who went about catapulting and
trying to be like a man. And you know you're not really so grand and
brave as you try to make out, Dolly. You screamed like anything the
other day when I threw a piece of wood that looked like a snake at you."

"It was very mean and cowardly of you to try to frighten me," said
Dolly. "And I know somebody that needn't boast either. Who was it that
ran away the other day when Farmer Bright's cow got into our field?
Somebody thought it was a bull, and was over the hedge in no time,
leaving his sister to be gored or tossed by the terrible bull."

Hector grew red. He was not fond of this story, which had a good deal of
truth in it. It seemed as if a quarrel was not very far off, but Hector
thought better of it.

"I was very sorry afterwards that I ran away," he said. "You know I told
you so, Dolly, and I really thought you were close beside me till I
heard you call out. I don't think you need cast up about it any more, I
really don't."

Dolly felt penitent at once, for she was a kind little girl, and
Hector's gentleness touched her.

"We