"I don't care whether I'm saucy or not. You ought not to be unfair to Frances."
These rebellious speeches absolutely made the squire sit upright in his chair.
"What do you know about it?" he queried.
"Because she is sympathetic; she has the dearest, tenderest, most unselfish heart in the world. Oh, she's a darling! I love her!"
"Go on with your playing, Fluff," said the squire.
Two bright spots of surprise and anger burned on his cheeks, but there was also a reflective look on his face.
Fluff's eyes blazed. Her fair cheeks crimsoned, and she tried to thunder out a spirited battle march on her poor little guitar.