“Nor would I accept it if you would,” said Fred.
His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would or not,—“How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let me see, I have my penknife.”
“Stuff!” was Fred’s gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey.
“But why did you not put on your gloves?” proceeded Henrietta.
“Gloves, nonsense!” said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand.
“He will take up the gauntlet presently,” said Beatrice. “By the by, Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?”
“O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield,” said Alex.
“Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them,” said Carey, “but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl’s things; I tell her then she can’t be driven.”
Fred could not bear to hear of Carey’s driving, a thing which he had not yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, “You have not told the news yet.”
“What news?”