All the rest of the afternoon was taken up with stories of Mr Carnaby and other ushers, so that the boys were surprised when the maid came to tell them that tea was ready.
Agnes was making tea. Hugh was so eager to repeat to his uncle some of the good stories that he had just heard, that he did not observe, as his aunt did, how red his sister’s fingers were, and how she shivered still.
“My dear,” said Mrs Shaw, “you have let these boys keep you away from the fire.”
“Yes, aunt; never mind! I shall be warm enough presently.”
“But you should not allow it, Agnes. How are they ever to learn manners, if they are not made to give way to young ladies while they are young? Boys are sure to be rude enough, at any rate. Their sisters should know better than to spoil them.”
While poor Agnes’ hardships were ending with a lecture, Hugh was chattering away, not at all aware that he had treated his sister much as Phil had treated him on his going to Crofton. If any one had told him that he was tyrannical, he would have been as much surprised as he had been at Phil’s tyranny over him. He did not know indeed that his sister had been in the cold and in the dark; but he might have felt that he had used her with a roughness which is more painful to a loving heart than cold and darkness are to the body.