“Dear little Felicia!” he exclaimed again. “We won’t let my bad brother separate us.”
“Oh, I do not think he is bad, Dick—I can’t think that! He is handsome, and he has such a good face!”
A strange light appeared in the eyes of the lad, while he flushed hotly.
“He knows how to fool people,” said Dick; “but I know he’s bad.”
“No, no!” cried Felicia. “He has held me on his knee and told me stories and talked to me. You are wrong, Dick. He is not bad.”
“He is! he is!” panted the boy, in a sudden burst of jealousy. “Don’t ever let him take you on his knee again, Felicia!” He grasped her by the wrists and glared into her startled eyes. “Promise me that you will not let him take you on his knee again. Promise! promise!”
She was frightened by his sudden fierceness, and the clutch on her wrists caused her to cry out with pain:
“Oh, oh! you are hurting me! I’ll promise; only don’t hurt me!”
Her face paled and showed her pain, which struck him to the heart with remorse. Instantly he released her wrists and clasped his arm about her, saying pleadingly:
“Forgive me, please forgive me! I didn’t mean to hurt you—truly, I didn’t! But it made me mad to think about you sitting on his knee, and I didn’t know what I was doing. Oh, say I did not hurt you much!”