"I hate him," she sobbed—"I hate him! I wish I had never seen him. He despises us, and—and I was so happy before he came."
The Twin set down his pipe upon his knee, and stared into the fire.
"As for hatin', Tamsin," he said gravely, "'tain't right. Us shud love our neighbours, Scriptur' says; an' I reckon that includes tenants. I' the matter o' hes despisin' us, I dunno as you'm right nuther. He's fash'nubble, o' cou'se; but very conformable, considerin'—very conformable. You bain't sorry us let Kit's House, eh, Tamsin? Not hankerin'—"
"No, no."
"I doubt, my dear, we'm poor hands to take care of 'ee, Paul an' me. Us talks et over togither at times, an' agrees 'twas wrong not to ha' sent 'ee away to school. Us got a whack o' handbills down, wan time, from different places. You wudn' believe et, my dear," he went on, with something like a laugh, "but Paul an' me a'most came to words over they handbills. 'Tes a curious fac', but at the places where they allowed most holidays, they was most partic'lar about takin' your own spoon and fork, an' Paul was a stickler agen that. Et grew to be a matter o' prenciple wi' Paul that wheriver you went you shudn' take your own spoon and fork. So us niver came to no understandin'. I doubt 'twas selfish an' us can't understand maidens an' their ways; but say, my dear, ef there's anything can be set right, an' us'll try—"
"No, no. Let me sit here beside you, and I shall be better presently."
She drew a low stool to his side, and sat with her head against his knee, and her dark eyes watching the fire. Peter laid one hand gently on her hair, and wound the brown locks around his fingers.
"All right now?" he asked, after several minutes had passed with no sound but the ticking of the clock.
"All right beside you, brother. It is always all right beside you."