“Take that back, you mollycoddle!” he cried, “or I’ll punch your head.”
“Better not,” warned Becky, composedly. “It isn’t polite at a party.”
“Take back your own words!” shouted Allerton, white with rage. “I’m no mollycoddle, and I’ll fight you now, or any time.”
But Doris, startled and dismayed at this disgraceful scene, put her hand on her brother’s arm and drew him away.
“Come, Allerton,” she said, with such dignity as she could command. “You forget yourself.”
“I won’t forget him, if he does,” promised Don.
“Don’t,” answered Allerton, moving away but still furious; “I’ll settle this with you some other time, when you are not my sister’s guest.”
Becky laughed and followed Doris, but outside the tent Allerton broke away from the group and went to nurse his grievances alone. Don was trying to think of a way to apologize to Doris when the girl gave him such a look of mingled scorn and reproach that he turned away, thrust his hands in his pockets and walked across the lawn whistling softly to himself.
“Never mind,” said Becky, with cheerfulness, “they’ll get over it in a minute. It isn’t any of our bread-and-cheese, anyhow.”
The incident, however, had disturbed gentle Doris greatly, and she was so silent and reserved that Becky and Sue soon left her to her own devices and set out to amuse themselves in any manner that might offer.