"Why didn't you say something, Hugh!" burst out Rosemary, hardly waiting till they were beyond earshot. "Why didn't you tell him that Jack is our friend and that Warren needn't think he can treat him like that!"
"I don't know that Jack is being treated 'like that,'" protested Doctor Hugh whimsically. "You looked so like a thunder cloud, Rosemary, that there was nothing left to be said."
Rosemary jerked her arm free and faced him tempestuously.
"I believe you're taking Warren's part!" she accused him. "How can you? Anyway, I don't care what you do—Jack Welles is my friend!"
"Jack is to be envied," said Doctor Hugh gently. "Though I wish, dear, that you would learn to reason a little more quietly. You know I am very fond of Jack—he is a splendid lad in many ways. So is Warren. This quarrel between them will blow over—why Rosemary, you and Jack have half a dozen quarrels a year and none of them are serious."
But the next day matters remained in much the same uncomfortable state. Jack reported obediently to have his finger dressed and refused—with more vigor than courtesy—Warren's offer to release him from picking for that day. Rosemary had a hot argument with Sarah, who perversely upheld Warren's cause, and then quarreled with her brother, who would not admit that Jack was a martyr.
"We won't discuss it any further, Rosemary," he said at last. "As far as I can judge, Warren is in the right and Jack is acting like a young and obstinate donkey."
The following afternoon Mrs. Willis went in to spend the night at the Eastshore house and choose the wall paper for the new suite of rooms. Doctor Hugh drove her in and was to drive her out the next morning. Jack had just finished bedding down the horses that night, and was wondering whether he had the energy to dress and go up to the little white house, when he heard Rosemary's voice outside the barn.
"Jack! Jack, where are you?"
"Here!" Jack hurried into sight. "What's the matter?" he demanded when he saw her face.