:: Keep yelling at her.
"I will not calm down!" [[you|You]] yell. 

[[Mrs. Anderson]] says calmly, "One."  "Yeah, what are you going to do!?"  "Two."  "Get that brute of a husband of yours to..."  "Three."

Suddenly, Mrs. Anderson grabs your arm.  Furious, you yank your arm away and try to push her away.  You have no idea how she moves so fast or so skillfully in high heels and an evening gown, but you quickly realize that you've picked a fight with the wrong woman when you find yourself with a face full of carpet and her on top of you, immobilizing your arms.

"Now, young lady, I want you to come with me," she says and roughly picks you up off the floor and marches you out of your room, with your arms safely immobilized.

By the time she's marched you near to her boudoir, you've calmed down and you're trying to figure out what on earth came over you.  It must be the hormones, you think, but this situation is enough to make anyone a little crazy.  You start to apologize to her, but she brushes you off.  "It's too late for that, young lady," she says.  "I gave you several chances.  You're just going to have to take your punishment.  Believe me, I don't want to do this, but you've forced my hand.  Your mother isn't here, so it falls on me to teach you some manners."

[[Take your punishment.]]