“Then I have your distinct promise, Frances?”
The girl knew that her brother was watching her. He, of course, would follow where she led.
“Yes, Mamma.”
“Yours also, Austin?”
“Well, ... no.” The boy threw back his head with a proud motion. “See, Mater, I don’t want to be cheeky, or to vex you ... and what you say may be all right for Frances. She’s a girl; and though I can’t see what harm she’d come to at the smithy, I suppose she’s got to stay at home if you want her to. But I don’t care twopence about charity, and humble neighbours, and Altruists—except to please Frances, and join in any lark that’s going. I’ll cut the lot if you like. But if Jim is Jim Morland and our brother—half or whole—I’m not going to cut him. That would make me a jolly cad, anyhow.”
Austin, who was certainly innocent of any desire for melodramatic effect, stopped abruptly, the better to observe his hearers. Frances had dropped her face between her hands—now, why on earth, Austin asked himself, had she done that? Mrs. Morland had started upright, angry and bewildered. What was the matter with her? Did she suppose—did anyone suppose—a fellow was going to cut his own brother?
“Austin!” exclaimed Mrs. Morland, “do I understand that you threaten to disobey me? Do you wish to make me miserable, and bring shame upon us all? Don’t imagine I shall allow you to do it. You are only a child, and utterly incapable of judging for yourself on so important a matter. You will simply do as I order you. By and by, when you come of age, you can of course throw my authority aside. In the meantime you are entirely under my control. I forbid you to speak again to this young blacksmith. That is enough.”
Mrs. Morland leant back on her cushions almost overcome. Her agitation was very real; for though Austin had not interrupted her, she had seen no sign of yielding on his handsome, boyish face—out of which, as she had spoken, had passed all the carelessness and all the pride.
“Mater—I don’t know how to tell you properly—but I think you’d speak differently if you had seen Jim at the gate just now. Frances had chucked him up, you know, when he came first; and then you had chucked him up, and he was going away without a word. He looked awfully down. I thought it was hard lines.”
Austin pushed away, with an abrupt, half-nervous movement, the chair across which he had been leaning, and thrust his hands into his pockets. He was a typical little Englishman—a boy of that nation which despises demonstrations of sentiment; but there was an honest flush on his cheeks.