“One day in that summer-house he sailed away into one of his tempers–did you ever happen to see him in that condition?”
“No, but I have heard of them.”
“Well, my mother was a Unitarian. So was I. And the gulf between a Unitarian and a Catholic priest is about as wide as from here to that moon. It was like asking me to become a beautiful young lady–or a green elephant–I simply couldn’t. Perhaps you agree with me?”
“Go on. Don’t ask so many questions.”
“I told him, respectfully, it was impossible. Then as he made a rush for me I saw, from his 148eyes and his white face, that murder and sudden death were in the air. Being younger I could dodge him and get away, and that so increased his fury that he fell down on the gravel walk in a sort of convulsion–or fit. I ran into the house for assistance, and while Sally and Martha tried to bring him to I went for the doctor.”
A silence followed this story. At last Elinor inquired if his father persisted.
“Persisted! That question, oh, Angel Cook, shows how little you knew my father! As soon as he recovered he lost no time in telling me to leave the house and never see him again.”
“And what happened?”
“I vanished.”
“Oh!” A sympathetic pressure of his hand and the girl beside him leaned closer still. “Horrible! So you wandered out into the world and this is your home-coming. Well, Patsy, I shall never treat you in that way. When you are very obstinate I shall just put my arms around your neck and treat you very differently.”