“I’ll give him leave to,” said Artingale, “if I can only manage to make my mark upon him.”
“Oh, Harry, don’t look like that; you frighten me.”
“Do I?—there; but don’t you be alarmed about me, little one, I can take care of myself, and I don’t mean to rest till I’ve paid that fellow my debt.”
“Paid your debt, Harry?” said Cynthia, with a look of alarm.
“Yes, little one; I owe him something for frightening you, too, down at Lawford!—if it is the same man,” he added.
“Oh, yes, Harry; I saw his face last night quite plainly,” cried Cynthia, excitedly.
“Then he has frightened little sister twice since. I say, Cynthy, I may call her little sister now?”
“Of course you may; but go on with what you are saying. Oh, Harry, dear,” she whispered, “I wish I was as big and brave as you.”
“And,” he whispered, “I wish that you were always just as you are now, so sweet and bright and loving.”
“Well, sir, go on.”