But Patsy continued weeping and bewailing her loss, regardless of entreaties. She called down some anathemas on the perpetrator of the outrage, which were not pleasant to Mr. Benton’s ears.
“Dry up this minute!” said he. “I cut out those confounded things, and don’t let me hear any more about it. Dry up,” said he, sternly, “and eat your breakfast.”
Neither Patsy nor her mother ate anything, however. They looked through their tears at each other, and were silent, while rebellious indignation filled their hearts. Mr. Benton was angry.
“It is beyond all reason,” said he, “for you to act so because I did as I pleased with my own. Anyhow, I would not give one boy,” looking at Jeff, “for a whole cow-pen full of girls like you,” glancing at Patsy.
Walter was an indignant spectator of this scene, and he wished he could take his sweetheart and fly away with her forever. He took a hasty leave, and Mr. Benton went earlier than usual on his daily round of plantation business.
Her mother soothed Patsy’s feelings as well as she could and counseled patience.
“I hate him, if he is my father,” said the girl.
The mother reminded her of the filial respect due the author of her being.
“I wish I had no father,” she answered perversely.
Mr. Benton rode back of the fields to the woods where the “hands” were cutting timber to complete a fence around the peach orchard. Tom had started in the spring wagon to go three miles down the river for some young trees. Jeff sat on the seat beside Tom. When Mr. Benton returned to go with them to select the trees at the nursery, the horses were apparently restive and rather unmanageable.