“Grandfather didn’t say to. Don’t push so, you rude boy. Ow! You’ll make me drop the lines.”
“Pig!”
“Rude-y!”
“Prude-y!”
“Grandfather, Kit——”
“Telltale!”
“I don’t care. You’re a rude, horrid boy,” said Jane, beginning to cry.
“And you are a stingy, tattling cry-baby. I just wish——”
“Children!” cried grandfather sternly. “I’m astonished! Why, do you realize what you are saying to each other? Jane, give me those reins. Christopher, stay quiet. I should not allow you to sit on the outside now, for any consideration.”
The children succumbed meekly. When his grandfather called him “Christopher” the boy felt doubly crushed. Jane’s tender little heart at once began to ache. She felt that it had all been her fault. It was Christopher’s turn to sit on the outside and there was no real reason why she should have been given the privilege of driving first. She would have liked to tell Christopher that she was sorry, to whisper to him to make up. But she glanced at his face and saw that it would do no good to speak for the present. Christopher was in the sulks and she knew that if she apologized now he would only say “shucks” and shove her. Yet, if she waited until he was amiable again, he probably would have forgotten all about it and call her silly.