“There now, my dear! It’s of no use for you to hang away,” said the old woman. “I’ve got a nice supper ready, and you must eat or else you won’t be able to help your poor father if he should come back.”
“But he won’t come back,” said Bigley. “He will not dare.”
“I don’t know what he may not do when it’s quite dark,” said the old woman. “There! You come and sit down, and you too, my dears, for you must be famished.”
Bigley yielded, and Bob and I were going away, but Bigley jumped up and stopped us.
“I’m not bad friends, Bob,” he said, holding out his hand. “You didn’t mean what you said, only when a fellow speaks against my father it hurts me, and—”
“I’m so sorry, Big,” exclaimed Bob eagerly, and they shook hands.
I was glad, but still I was going away. Bigley stopped me though.
“I sha’n’t eat if you don’t,” he said.
“But I can’t now after what has happened,” I said.
“It wasn’t your fault,” replied Bigley gloomily. “Your father was obliged to speak. Come and sit down.”