&lsquo;But why mustn&rsquo;t I?&rsquo; demanded Mary-Lou, standing very straight and square, her blue eyes looking levelly at Mother and Gran.<br />&lsquo;Because your mother says you mustn&rsquo;t,&rsquo; retorted Gran with her usual crispness.<br />Mary-Lou glanced a little more steadily at her, but said nothing. That was the kind of remark you expected from Gran. She was a dear, and kind, and an absolute rock when you were in real trouble; but she did think such queer things about obedience, and tidiness, and keeping yourself &lsquo;like a young lady, and not a young hooligan.&rsquo; Mother was not half so strict, thought Mary-Lou, who&mdash;at the age of nine, nearly ten&mdash;would have ruled her mother with a rod of iron had it not been for Gran. The old lady saw to it that her small grand-daughter was brought up in the way she should go. So, after that one steady look, Mary-Lou turned to her mother and waited for what was to come.<br />&lsquo;Oh, dear!&rsquo; began Mother in worried tones. &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t think Clem and Tony are quite the right kind of friends for you, Mary-Lou.&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;But they are my friends,&rsquo; Mary-Lou stated simply. &lsquo;I can&rsquo;t not be friends with them, Mother. We&rsquo;ve been friends since they came to Polquenel. Why aren&rsquo;t they the right sort now when they were at first?&rsquo;