“No—no,” sobbed Nettie; “because I make him.”
“And how can you make him, I should like to know?”
Nettie made no answer but renewed tears. At last she sobbed out, “Oh, Jack, Jack, I wish you were Cherry!”
“I wish I were with all my heart,” said Jack. “Would you tell me if I were Cherry?”
“No; but I know he would be kind, and not think me horrid.”
“Well, Nettie, I’ll try to be kind; but you frighten me by all this. Now just listen. I believe I ought to tell father directly.”
“Oh, Jack! dear Jack! Don’t, don’t—it would be dreadful! Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes,” said Jack, “I believe you; but how do I know about a young scamp like Dick? You tell me the whole truth, and then I can judge, or I shall tell my father this moment. You’re my sister, and I shall take care of you. You’ve done a thing that may be told against you all your life, and nothing can make it right, say what you will.”
“But I can’t tell you, Jack; I’ve promised.”
“Well, then, I shall have it out first with Dick.”