That was too much. The dark eyes turned black with indignation and the cheeks were scarlet.
"He does like me! Thou art a bad, wicked girl and tellest falsehoods!"
Primrose sprang up and the belligerents faced each other. Then Andrew came up the path, and she flew out with such force that the milk scattered on the ground, and he had to steady himself.
"Primrose——"
"She said thou didst not like me, and that I am no relation. What didst thou say down in the orchard? And if no one likes me why can I not go back to Aunt Wetherill?"
The usually gay voice was full of anger, just as he had heard it before. Truly the child had a temper, for all her sweetness.
"Children—wait until I carry in the milk, and then I will come out and hear thee."
Chloe took the pail and Penn followed with his.
Andrew came out, and looked at the girls with grave amusement. Primrose was the most spirited. Really, was he being caught with the world's snare, beauty?
"She said you—you did not like me." Primrose's lip quivered in an appealing fashion, and her bosom swelled with renewed indignation.