"Of the foolish ones who write," continued Mrs. Rose, with gentle mischief; "who waste much time in scribbling."
"There are people whose brains are continually stewing over cooking-stoves," said the young man, scornfully; "they are incapable of rising higher."
"La, la, Agapit," she said, good-naturedly. "Do not be angry with thy cousin. I came to warn thee lest thou shouldst talk freely to him and afterward be sorry."
The young man threw his pen on the table, pushed back his chair, and, springing to his feet, began to pace excitedly up and down the room, gesticulating eagerly as he talked.
"When fine weather comes," he exclaimed, "strangers flock to the Bay. We are glad to see them,—all but these abominable idiots. Therefore when they arrive let the frost come, let us have hail, wind, and snow to drive them home, that we may enjoy peace."
"But unfortunately in June we have fine weather," said Mrs. Rose.
"I will insult him," said her black-haired cousin, wildly. "I will drive him from the house," and he stood on tiptoe and glared in her face.
"No, no; thou wilt do nothing of the sort, Agapit."
"I will," he said, distractedly. "I will, I will, I will."
"Agapit," said the young woman, firmly, "if it were not for the strangers I should have only crusts for my child, not good bread and butter, therefore calm thyself. Thou must be civil to this stranger."