The voices up stairs were raised quite high in dispute. Louis gave a tantalizing laugh.
We never quarrelled. I do not know that we were so much more amiable by nature; but our disputes were of small importance, and never reached any great height. So we all started rather nervously.
“Boys!” said Fan, sententiously. “O, papa, dearest, I am so glad that you came into the world a full-grown, evenly-tempered man, and that we all could not help being sweet if we tried, seeing that we follow your example.”
“Do you?” returned papa, archly. “I hope you do not use it all up, and that there is a little left for the parish.”
“And the stranger within our gates.”
There seemed to be no cessation in the discussion up stairs; so, presently, papa asked that the bell might be rung. Stuart answered the summons, coming down two steps at a bound, and shaking the house.
“Louis begs you to excuse him,” he said, with a graceful inclination. “He is knocked up completely. He made such a muff of himself at the examinations, that he has been cross as a bear ever since. He has a lovely temper.”
There was a droll light in his eyes as he uttered this.
“Your brother said he was in poor health. So he—failed then?” and papa’s voice dropped softly.
“Yes. Steve did not want him to try. He said there was no hurry about his getting into college. I only wish somebody would coddle me up, and tell me that I needn’t study. I think the whole world is in a conspiracy against me.”