I stretched out my hand for it again, but he only looked at me. I fancied there was a sort of surprise in his gaze.
"Of course, of course," he murmured at last, as if he were pulling himself together. "I'm afraid it will be of no use to you, Miss Margaret, as you say it is not a suitable gift; but if you will take it, of course you are welcome."
I took it; but a chill fell upon my heart.
"You did not remember my commission when you were in London, Mr. Harrod?" I asked, with, I am afraid, something of bitterness in my voice.
"No," he answered, quickly. "Did you give me a commission? I'm very sorry if I forgot any wish of yours."
"A commission to buy me some of those books that you have in your library," I said.
I saw him bite his lip as though vexed. Perhaps he was vexed to think that he had forgotten something which might have given me pleasure. But if he was, he was too proud to confess it.
"Oh, that was no commission," he said, with a little cold laugh. "You know I would not take it. I told you I was not the person for such a job. I advised you to ask Squire Broderick."
I tossed my head. "Yes, and I think I answered you that the squire was no such friend of mine that I should ask favors of him," I replied, hotly. My temper was rising, but luckily he had more self-control than I had; he saved me from making an exhibition of myself.