Donald started, and grew crimson.
“I—I—I don’t understand you, Miss Abercarne,” he stammered, seating himself on the table, and stabbing the precious nun’s veiling through and through with a bodkin which he had taken from a work-basket.
“Don’t you?” said Chris calmly, as she set his teeth on edge by tearing a piece of calico. “Then, as I am quite sure you’re not dull-witted, I can only suppose that you must think I am. For the past two days,” she went on, as she tore off another strip of calico, “you have followed me about everywhere; and when you have not done it of your own accord, I have seen Mrs. Graham-Shute remind you by a nod or a look that you had to do so. Ah! ha! You didn’t think my eyes were so good as that, did you?”
Donald was redder than before, and furious with his mother, Chris, and himself. But then the boy peeped out in him, and he snatched away the calico just as she was about to tear it again.
“Don’t do that, for goodness’ sake!” said he, wincing. “Call me names, if you like, make me out a cad if you like, but don’t set my teeth on edge!”
“I’m not going to call you names, or to make you out anything,” said Chris, blushing and laughing a little, and looking very pretty in the excitement of the skirmish. “But, of course, I can’t help having my own opinion of your behaviour.”
“I don’t care what your opinion is, you’ve no right to say such things!” cried Donald in a loud and dictatorial tone.
“I haven’t said anything but that you followed me about because your mother told you to,” said Chris, looking up with a daring face.
“It isn’t true! It isn’t true, it’s a—a—well, it isn’t true!” roared Donald.
“Yes, it is true, and I know why she does it, too!” she added in a defiant tone, but with burning cheeks. “And I can tell you that both you and she are wasting your time; for I’m not going to do the thing you’re both so much afraid of. And if I were going to do it,” she added, with spirit, “nothing you and she could do would prevent me.”