“That young Danby.”
Dexter’s lips were well opened now, and he went on talking rapidly.
“I never did anything to him, but he went on for an hour walking all round the garden, and wouldn’t speak; and when I was tired and sat down, he got a stick and knocked me about, and poked me with the point. I stood it as long as I could, and then, when he got worse and worse, I pitched into him, and I’m sure you would have done the same.”
Helen did not look as if she would have done the same, but stood gazing at the young monkey before her, wondering whether he was deserving of her sympathy, or had really misbehaved himself, and was trying to palliate his conduct.
“There, Dexter,” she said at last. “I really do not know what to do with you. You had better come on and see papa at once.”
She took a step toward the town, and then waited, but Dexter stood firm, and cast a glance toward the country.
“Dexter, did you hear what I said!”
The boy looked at her uneasily, and then nodded sullenly.
“Come home with me, then, at once,” said Helen quickly.
“It’s no use for me to come home along of you,” said Dexter surlily. “He’ll hit me, and I don’t want to go.”