"I wish mamma was at home," I said, still sobbing. "She would not allow me to be so treated; but it is always the way—as soon as she turns her back, Evelyn besets me, and you look on and encourage her."
"I do no such thing," said Mrs. Austin, sharply. "You have no business to take up cudgels for every outsider that your sister mentions, as you do. She is afraid to speak her mind before you, for fear of a fuss."
"I hate deceit," I said, wiping my eyes; "and deceitful people, too. I love my friends behind their backs the same as to their faces—just the same."
"What makes you mock Mr. Bainrothe then, and show how he minces at table, and uses his rattan?" she asked.
"Mr. Bainrothe is not my friend; besides, I said no harm of him. I don't love him, and never will, and he knows it."
"Were you rude enough to tell him so, Miriam?"
"No, but he understands very well. I never mimic any one I love."
"Yet you love that rough, old Mr. Gerald Stanbury, as cross as a cur. What taste!"
"Yes, from my heart I love him. He is good, he is true, he is noble; that is what he is. He has no specks in his eyes. He does not say, 'Just so,' whenever papa opens his lips."
"O Miriam! not to like him for that!"