“She is your sister,” admonished ’Phemie.
“That’s how I come to know her so well,” returned Lucas, calmly. “If she’d only been a boy I’d licked her aout o’ this afore naow!”
“About what?” asked the troubled ’Phemie.
“Oh, just over her ’tarnal meanness. And maw’s so foolish, too; she could stop her.”
“I’m sorry we came here to-night, Lucas,” ’Phemie whispered.
And at the same moment Lyddy was saying exactly the same thing to Harris Colesworth.
“Pshaw!” said the young chemist, in return, “don’t give ’em the satisfaction of seeing we’re disturbed. They know no better. I can’t understand why they should be so nasty to us.”
“It’s Lucas’s sister,” sighed Lyddy. “She thinks she has reason for being offended with me. But I did hope that feeling had died out by this time.”
“You say the word and we’ll get out of here, Miss Lydia,” urged Harris.
“Sh! No,” she whispered, for somebody was painfully playing a march on the tin-panny old piano, and Mr. Somers was scowling directly down upon the Hillcrest party to obtain silence.