"Ay, Mistress—to starve of cold and want, if I had my way," said Nell.
Shameless Wayne put one arm about the pleading woman and turned upon his sister hotly. "Canst not see how it is with her?" he cried. "They say that men are hard, but God knows ye women make us seem soft-hearted by the contrast."
"The dead cannot speak, or father yonder would up and cry shame on her," the girl answered, covering the pair of them with a disdainful glance.
"Nay, thou'rt wronging him. Had she been whole of mind, he might have done—but 'twas never father's way to double any blow that fell upon a woman."
"She shall not stay here! 'Tis pollution," cried Nell.
"And I say the poor bairn shall bide here so long as she lacks a home; and I am master here, not thou."
His sister stared open-eyed at him. Since last night he had been contrite to the verge of womanishness; but now he showed a sterner glimpse of the Wayne temper than she had looked for in him. She felt wronged and baffled, and for her life could not keep back the stinging answer.
"Ay, thou art master," she said slowly, "and thou beginnest well—first to let another fight for thee, and then to welcome the betrayer with open arms. Small wonder that they call thee Shameless Wayne."
For a breathing-space she thought he would have struck her. But this lad, who until yesterday had never seen need to check his lightest whim, was learning a hard lesson well. He struggled with his pride awhile, and crushed it; and when he spoke his voice was quiet and sad.
"Nell," he said, "'tis no fit place for brawling, and thou art right in what thou say'st of me. But Mistress Wayne shall bide, and not if all our kin cry out on me, will I go back on what I promised."