Not so with Mr. Temple, Charlie Maynard’s companion. When, after a time, he sauntered up and joined the group, he soon put a check upon the merry chatter of the little girls. Not intentionally, for he had more to say to them, and asked more questions than Mr. Maynard himself: but it was done with a tone and manner which they did not like; in a half-mocking way, which irritated Bessie, and brought on a fit of shyness with Maggie. Indeed, the latter would not stand it long, but moved away to her mamma.
“What is it, dear?” asked her mother, seeing that something had disturbed her.
“That hateful man, mamma,” said Maggie, lowering her voice that she might not be heard by the object of her displeasure.
“Do not call names, dear,” said her mother. “What has he done to you?”
“He talks disagreeable nonsense, mamma.”
“I thought you liked nonsense once in a while,” said Mr. Stanton.
“Oh! it’s not nice, amusing nonsense like yours, Uncle Ruthven. He talks compliments, and compliments he don’t mean either. He is horrid, and very silly, too.”
“Perhaps he thinks you like it,” said Mr. Stanton.
“He has no business to think so,” said Maggie, waxing more indignant. “We were having a very nice time with Miss Kate, and he made himself a great interruption. He teased us about our dolls; and then he asked us a great many ridiculous questions, and talked a great many foolish things about Bessie’s eyes and my hair. If it was grown ladies he talked to that way they would say he was impertinent, and I don’t see what children have to stand it for. It is horrid nonsense.”
Mamma thought it horrid nonsense too. She did not like to have such things said to her little girls, and was glad that they were too wise to be pleased with such foolish flattery, which might otherwise have made them vain.