The older woman looked quietly out of the window. Neither spoke for a long time.
“I saw you talking with Abel Newt on the lawn. Why did he strike that boy?” asked Mrs. Simcoe at length, still gazing at the distant hills.
“He had to defend himself,” said Hope, rapidly.
“Couldn’t a young man protect himself against a boy without stunning him? He might easily have killed him,” said Mrs. Simcoe, in the same dry tone.
“It was very unfortunate, and Mr. Newt says so; but I don’t think he is to bear every thing.”
“What did the other do?”
“He insulted him.”
“Indeed!”
The tone in which the elderly woman spoke was trying. Hope was flushed, and warm, and disconcerted. There was so much skepticism and contempt in the single word “indeed!” as Mrs. Simcoe pronounced it, that Hope was really angry with her.
“I don’t see why you should treat Mr. Newt in that manner,” said she, haughtily.