The Blue Castle by L. M. Montgomery

besides my stealing the raspberry jam. So that’s that.”
    â€œDoss,” said Uncle Benjamin, solemnly and helplessly, “you are not—like yourself.”
    â€œWho am I like, then?” asked Valancy.
    Uncle Benjamin was rather posed.
    â€œYour Grandfather Wansbarra,” he answered desperately.
    â€œThanks.” Valancy looked pleased. “That’s a real compliment. I remember Grandfather Wansbarra. He was one of the few human beings I have known—almost the only one. Now, it is of no use to scold or entreat or command, Uncle Benjamin—or exchange anguished glances with Mother and Cousin Stickles. I am not going to any doctor. And if you bring any doctor here I won’t see him. So what are you going to do about it?”
    What indeed! It was not seemly—or even possible—to hale Valancy doctorwards by physical force. And in no other way could it be done, seemingly. Her mother’s tears and imploring entreaties availed not.
    â€œDon’t worry, Mother,” said Valancy, lightly but quite respectfully. “It isn’t likely I’ll do anything very terrible. But I mean to have a little fun.”
    â€œFun!” Mrs. Frederick uttered the word as if Valancy had said she was going to have a little tuberculosis.
    Olive, sent by her mother to see if she had any influence over Valancy, came away with flushed cheeks and angry eyes. She told her mother that nothing could be done with Valancy. After she, Olive, had talked to her just like a sister, tenderly and wisely, all Valancy had said, narrowing her funny eyes to mere slips, was, “ I don’t show my gums when I laugh.”
    â€œMore as if she were talking to herself than to me. Indeed, Mother, all the time I was talking to her she gave me the impression of not really listening. And that wasn’t all. When I finally decided that what I was saying had no influence over her I begged her, when Cecil came next week, not to say anything queer before him, at least. Mother, what do you think she said?”
    â€œI’m sure I can’t imagine,” groaned Aunt Wellington, prepared for anything.
    â€œShe said, ‘I’d rather like to shock Cecil. His mouth is too red for a man’s.’ Mother, I can never feel the same to Valancy again.”
    â€œHer mind is affected, Olive,” said Aunt Wellington solemnly. “You must not hold her responsible for what she says.”
    When Aunt Wellington told Mrs. Frederick what Valancy had said to Olive, Mrs. Frederick wanted Valancy to apologize.
    â€œYou made me apologize to Olive fifteen years ago for something I didn’t do,” said Valancy. “That old apology will do for now.”
    Another solemn family conclave was held. They were all there except Cousin Gladys, who had been suffering such tortures of neuritis in her head “ever since poor Doss went queer” that she couldn’t undertake any responsibility. They decided—that is, they accepted a fact that was thrust in their faces—that the wisest thing was to leave Valancy alone for a while—“give her her head” as Uncle Benjamin expressed it—“keep a careful eye on her but let her pretty much alone.” The term of “watchful waiting” had not been invented then, but that was practically the policy Valancy’s distracted relatives decided to follow.
    â€œWe must be guided by developments,” said Uncle Benjamin. “It is”—solemnly—“easier to scramble eggs than unscramble them. Of course—if she becomes violent.”
    Uncle James consulted Dr. Ambrose Marsh. Dr. Ambrose Marsh approved their decision. He pointed out to irate Uncle James—who would have liked to lock Valancy up somewhere, out of hand—that Valancy had not, as yet, really done or said anything that could be constructed as proof of lunacy—and without proof you cannot lock people up in this degenerate age.