"I didn't know I should meet them, of course; but I did. It wasn't likely I should pass them by. I'd had thoughts of going to Church; and when Dunn asked me, I didn't see why I shouldn't. They lent me a Prayer-book."
Mrs. Stuart went on eating solemnly, her eyes downcast.
Archie had a temper as well as his mother: not a sullen temper like hers, but sometimes a hot one. He was very good-humoured up to a certain point; but he could be roused; and her manner was irritating.
"If you don't mean to speak to me about them, mother, I shan't speak of them to you neither," he said. "And another time you needn't catechise me,—that's all. I'm not a baby to be kept in leading-strings."
Still no reply. Archie bolted the remainder of his big helping, pushed back his chair, and stood up.
"Well, if I'm not to have civil words here, I'll go where I can get them," he said, in a passion.
Mrs. Stuart did not look up, but she said coldly,—"You're not going to those Dunns?"
"I don't see why not. Mrs. Dunn won't treat me like this, anyway."
Archie lingered for two or three seconds near the door. Even in his fit of anger, he knew himself to be acting wrongly. He really did not wish to grieve or trouble his mother. She had been a good mother to him, and Archie could not but know it. He had good reason to be grateful and forbearing, even apart from the fact that she was his mother. Archie, of course, did not fully know how much he owed to her: young people seldom do. Nevertheless, he waited, hoping she might say some little word which should make it easy for him to come back to the table. Truth to tell, he would not have objected to so doing, since he was hungry still.
No such word came, however. Mrs. Stuart rose, and stalked with long offended strides towards the fireplace.