"Papa, papa, don't be rough with her," expostulated the youth.
Andrew confronted him indignantly.
"That's enough of this nonsense!" he thundered. "What d'ye mean? Who are you?"
"Doesn't the voice of nature tell you?" the youth inquired sadly.
"The voice of nature be damned!"
The young man turned to the cold lady on the sofa.
"Stepmother," he asked, "will you protect me?"
She looked at him at first stonily, and then suddenly more kindly. He was remarkably good-looking, with such nice bright eyes, and a manner difficult to resist.
"I shall certainly see that justice is done you," she replied.
The young man seated himself beside her and took her hand.