For Baby-face was beginning to whimper.
“Oh, nothing, sir; only you are so glad to go; and we shall be sorry to part with you: but you won't care for that—oh! oh! oh!”
“What, do you think I shall forget you and your kindness? Never: I'll square accounts with friends and foes; not one shall be forgotten.”
“Don't offer me any of your money,” sobbed Hannah, “for I wouldn't touch it. Good-bye,” said she: “I shan't have as much as a kiss for it I'll be bound: good-bye,” said she again, and never moved.
“Oh, won't you, though,” cried Alfred gaily. “What is that? and that? and that? Now, what on earth are you crying about? Dry your tears, you dear good-hearted girl: no, I'll dry them for you.”
He took out a white handkerchief and dried her cheeks gently for her, and gave her a parting kiss. But the Archbold's patience was exhausted: a door opened nearly opposite, and there she stood yellow with jealousy and sombre as night with her ebon brows. At sight of this lowering figure Hannah uttered a squawk, and fled with cheeks red as fire. Alfred, not aware of Mrs. Archbold's smouldering passion, and little dreaming that jealous anguish and rage stood incarnate before him, burst out laughing like a mischievous boy! On this she swept upon him, and took him by both shoulders, and awed him with her lowering brows close to his. “You ungrateful wretch,” she said violently, and panted.
His colour rose. “Ungrateful? That I am not madam. Why do you call me so?”
“You are—you are. What have I done to you that you run from me to the very servants? However, she shall be packed off this very night, and you to thank for it.”
This was the way to wound the generous youth. “Now it is you that are ungenerous,” he said. “What harm has the poor girl done? She had a virtuous movement and pitied me for the heartless fraud I suffer by; that is all. Pray, do you never pity me?”
“Was it this virtuous movement set her kissing you?” said the Archbold, clenching her teeth as if the word stung her, like the sight.