“‘I pray thee cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve.’”
Mr. Sharp rose, and, pushing his plate angrily away, strode from the room. Mrs. Sharp looked annoyed, but made no remark, contenting herself with a reproachful glance at her sister and niece.
Hetty accepted her share with extreme nonchalance. As for the other delinquent, she was too much elated by her successful quotation to heed so trifling a matter as the passing displeasure of her sister—a displeasure, too, which, as she shrewdly suspected, was more than half assumed for the mere sake of appearance.
That was the fact, and yet there was a real vexation to Mrs. Sharp in what had occurred, because she would have to bear the brunt of his ill-humor.
With that unpleasant conviction weighing upon her, she breathed a heavy sigh as she, too, left the table and the room.
“Poor Aunt Prue!” said Hetty, looking after her. “What a sad misnomer was her name when she undertook the care and support of—”
“Hush, hush, child!” interrupted her mother.