"I know that you won't do anything of which I disapprove, Ann."
"You're mistaken, Everett," Ann contradicted slowly. "I could not allow even you to mark out my duty. And something makes me so anxious to help them! I don't want to go against your wishes; but—I must do as my conscience dictates."
"Surely you don't mean, Ann, that if you were my wife you would force—"
"Please don't, Everett! No, of course not; but this is Horace's home and mine, and, if we desire to share it with someone less fortunate than we are, you shouldn't object."
Everett took up no more time in vain argument; but registered a vow that he would make it warm for the beggars who had thrust themselves upon the Shellingtons. He would search for an opportunity! Impatient and unsettled, he left Ann. She, too, was unhappy; for it had been the first time her duty had ever clashed with her love. The shock of the collision hurt.
The next morning Flea crept into her brother's room and stood looking down at him. He opened his eyes languidly, smiled, and groaned.
"Ain't yer bones any better this mornin'?" asked Flea in an awed whisper.
"Yep; but my heart hurts me. The pains round it be worse than the misery in my knees, 'cause I can't breathe."
Flea bent lower.
"Did the pretty lady tell ye anythin' last night?"