Mr Dawson took it, but he looked not at it, but at the child, saying nothing.
“I beg your pardon. I’m very grieved,” repeated she.
Mrs Eastwood whispered to Miss Jean what a pretty picture the child made, but Miss Jean was thinking of other things.
“It was Sandy,” continued the little pleader. “He was taking a’ wee David’s sweetees, and I couldna bide that, ye ken, and I just—just tried to hinder him; an’ he ran awa’, and me after him. And he ran in beneath the tree, but he wouldna have gone, if I hadna been after him, and so—”
“She licket me, and she tried to rug my lugs,” (pull my ears), said a voice in the distance.
The change in the girl’s face was wonderful to see as she turned to the speaker. A sudden colour rose to her cheeks, and her grey eyes flashed scorn and anger.
“If I only had been able!” said she, and then she turned to Mr Dawson again.
“I’m very grieved,” repeated she.
“It canna be helpit now, Maysie,” said Miss Jean. “Never heed. Run awa’ with the lave o’ the bairns.”
For Miss Jean knew that it was not the apples nor their destruction that had brought that look to her brother’s face.