"Don't be an iron," answered Guy, meaning a tyrant. "One iron's enough, and Katty says papa is a rale one."
"Guy, hold your tongue!" cried Lizzie and Helen in one breath. "You must not speak so of papa."
"It was Katty said it, not me. Come along, Clarice, and I'll show you where the gipsies were to have lived."
Clarice seized her basket, and off went the two allies; and their pleasant laughter was heard for some time by the grave seniors as they sat quietly on the bank of the river.
"Think of Katty saying such a thing before Guy!" remarked Lizzie. "I wonder if I ought to speak to her. I would tell mother, only it would vex her."
"Leave it alone," growled Aymer. "People will talk, and Guy will find it out for himself soon enough."
"Oh, Aymer! But he's our father!"
"I can't help it. I wish I could! I'd rather have one of the common day-labourers for my father—one who would work for his family and behave himself. There, girls, never mind, only don't talk to me any more about it."
Aymer was a very silent fellow, and it was but seldom that his sisters got a glimpse of his feelings: but there was a bitterness in his voice now which startled them. He sprang up from the ground, saying,—
"It is getting late; come along, girls. I want a stout ash stick, and it will be a pleasant walk to the plantation."