“I won’t be struck as if I was a child,” exclaimed Stuart, with fierce determination; “and he struck me.”
“I told you to let that brush alone,” said the other, sullenly. “Your own was there.”
“Stuart, go in the room opposite and finish your toilet. I shall expect an apology from you both when you come down stairs. Breakfast is ready.”
It seemed as if we were to have neither of them; but when the meal was about half over Stuart entered the room. His face was flushed, and his eyes were still sending out fiery rays; but he went straight to papa.
“Mr. Endicott,” he said, making an effort to steady his voice, “I am truly sorry that I should have been so rude and ungentlemanly in your house. I ask your pardon.—And yours, Mrs. Endicott.”
“I pardon you on condition that a similar event never happens, while you are here, at least. You are both too old to fall into such rough-and-tumble school-boy fights.”
Mamma held out her hand to him as he passed her. He blushed deeply, but seized it with a thankful eagerness. After that our meal was very silent.
Ann went up stairs to see if Louis would have any breakfast.
“Sure, he’s crosser than two sticks when the fire is kindlin’. He doesn’t want sup nor bite; and if he did, it’s little he’d get from me.”
So mamma judged that it was best to pay no further attention to him. He did not even come down at noon; and then Stuart found that his door was locked.