"Oh, Tom, it was dreadful for you!" she declared, "and do you mean to say that he didn't apologise afterwards?—when you had flung his shilling back, I mean?"
"No. He wanted me to stop, but I wouldn't. I walked straight away."
"I think you ought to have waited," Nellie said after a minute's reflection.
"He could have apologised to me in the town to-day if he had liked," Tom reminded her.
"Yes, of course. And he pretended he didn't see you?"
"No, not exactly. He looked straight at me, and took no notice of me whatever. It was pretty cool behaviour, wasn't it?"
"It was horrid of him! Worse than his offering you money! He may have meant that kindly—you had told him we were poor—"
"Do you think I look like a beggar?" Tom broke in hotly.
"Oh, no, no!"
Nellie, with Tim by her side, was curled up on the sitting-room sofa, a delicate flush on her thin cheeks, her blue eyes very bright, whilst Tom moved restlessly about the room, his hands in his trousers' pockets. By and by the boy came to the sofa and stood looking down at his sister.