“All right, master,” said the boy, wiping his eyes.
“Now, look here, mother: once for all, I won’t have it. I’m as poor as I can be to get along; and though we’ve swallowed my watch, and the sugar-tongs and spoons, I haven’t swallowed my little bit of pride; and the next time that Tom or that Fred comes here, see if I don’t call him a son of a purse-proud, stuck-up father, and slam the door in his face.—Now, you be off.”
“Yes, Dick,” said his wife meekly; and she rose and gathered together her work. “But, Dick, you’re not very cross with me?”
“Well, perhaps not,” he said; and his eyes endorsed his words.
“But, look here, Dick: if Tom comes back with Jessie, you won’t say anything unkind to him—for her sake?”
“Won’t I?” cried Dick sharply. “I’ll shy the lapstone at him! If he’s too good for my Jessie, she’s too good for him.”
“But don’t hurt their feelings, Dick,” she whispered, so that the boy should not hear.
“I don’t want to hurt her feelings,” said Dick, yielding to his wife’s influence. “But there, you’re trying to come the soft on me again, as you always do, and I won’t have it. Now be off.”
“Yes, Dick—I’m going,” she said quickly, as she put on her bonnet and shawl. “But I know you won’t be unkind.”
“Won’t I?” said Dick, as the door closed. “I’ll show some of them yet! I can be a regular savage when I like—can’t I, Jack?”