"What's  the  good  of  saying  you  haven't  got  the  jewelry,"
she  cried,  "when  you  know  you  have?  Give  it  to  her  or
I'll — I'll  go  out  into  the  middle  of  the  road  and  shout  at
the  top  of  my  voice  that  there's  a  snake  in  the  house,  and
people  will  have  to  come  in  and  look  for  it,  because  when
they  didn't  believe  about  the  baboon  in  Mrs.  Meares's
room  the  baboon  was  there  all  the  time."

She  stopped  and  challenged  Monkley  with  flashing  eyes,
head  thrown  back,  and  agitated  breast.
"You  oughtn't  to  talk  to  a  grown-up  person  like  that,
you  know,"  said  her  father.
Something  unspeakably  soft  in  his  attitude  infuriated
Sylvia,  and  spinning  round  she  flashed  out  at  him:

"If  you  don't  make  Monkley  give  back  the  things  you
stole  I'll  tell  everybody  about  you.  I  mean  it.  I'll  tell
everybody."  She  stamped  her  feet.
"That's  a  daughter,"  said  Henry.  "That's  the  way
they're  bringing  them  up 'nowadays — to  turn  round  on
their  fathers."

"A  daughter?"  Monkley  echoed,  with  an  odd  look  at  his
friend.
"I  mean  son,"  said  Henry,  weakly.  "Anyway,  it's  all
the  same."

Monkley  seemed  to  pay  no  more  attention  to  the  slip,
but  went  over  to  Maudie  and  began  to  coax  her.
"Come  on,  Maudie,  don't  turn  away  from  a  good  pal.
