“I wish it had never happened,” said the boy bitterly. He hated the notion that his evidence was the strongest link in the chain encircling the hapless Betsy.
“Oh, I don’t find it bad, this court. One is all pins and needles at first. But the men are nice.”
“I am not thinking of ourselves,” he growled.
“Tiens! Of whom, then?”
“Angèle, you’re awfully selfish. What have we to endure, compared with poor Mrs. Pickering?”
“Oh, pouf! That is her affair. Mamma beat me on Thursday. Beat me, look you! But I made her stop, oh, so quickly. Miss Walker pretends that mamma was ill. I know better, and so do you. I said if she hit me again——”
He caught her wrist.
“Shut up!” he said in a firm whisper.
“Don’t. You are hurting me. Why are you so horrid? Do you want me to be beaten?”