“I would rather go to some other school, then,” said Cashel, ruefully. “Old Moncrief is so awfully down on me.”
“You only want to leave because you are expected to work here; and that is the very reason I wish you to stay.”
Cashel made no reply; but his face darkened ominously.
“I have a word to say to the doctor before I go,” she added, reseating herself. “You may return to your play now. Good-bye, Cashel.” And she again raised her face to be kissed.
“Good-bye,” said Cashel, huskily, as he turned toward the door, pretending that he had not noticed her action.
“Cashel!” she said, with emphatic surprise. “Are you sulky?”
“No,” he retorted, angrily. “I haven’t said anything. I suppose my manners are not good enough, I’m very sorry; but I can’t help it.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Byron, firmly. “You can go, Cashel. I am not pleased with you.”
Cashel walked out of the room and slammed the door. At the foot of the staircase he was stopped by a boy about a year younger than himself, who accosted him eagerly.
“How much did she give you?” he whispered.