“What difference does that make?” said Cherry, shaking him off and walking away.
“I shall keep my dog out of his way,” said Bob, contemptuously.
“I suppose Spaniards are savages,” said Jack, in a tone of deadly indignation.
“He’d better play a thousand guitars than hurt a poor little innocent puppy!” said Nettie, half sobbing.
Alvar stood looking mournfully before him; his anger had died out; he looked almost ready to cry with perplexity.
Cheriton turned round. “I won’t have a fuss made,” he said. “Take Buffer upstairs to my room, and don’t say a word to any one. It can’t be helped.”
“I know who I shall never say a word to,” said Nettie; but she obeyed, followed by Jack and Bob. Alvar detained Cheriton.
“Oh, my brother, forgive me. I would have broken my own arm sooner than see your eyes look at me thus. It is with us a word and a blow. I will never strike any little beast again—never.”
He looked so wretched that Cheriton answered reluctantly, “I don’t mean to say any more about it.”
“But you are angry still?”