"Do you?" he repeated, with an impatient toss of his head. "All but the pretty. I advise you to take off that thing" (pointing to the dress), "I never saw you look worse."
Since Ella's engagement she had cried half the time, and now, as usual, the tears came to her eyes, provoking Henry still more.
"Now make your eyes red," said he. "I declare, I wonder if there's any thing of you but tears."
"Please don't talk so," said Ella, laying her hand on his arm. "I had this dress made on purpose to please you, for you once said you liked dark blue."
"And so I do on your sister, but your complexion is different from hers, and then those ruffles and bag sleeves make you look like a little barrel!"
"You told me you admired flounces, and these sleeves are all the fashion," said Ella, the tears again flowing in spite of herself.
"Well, I do think Mary looks well in flounces," returned Henry, "but she is almost a head taller than you, and better proportioned every way."
Ella longed to remind him of a time when he called her sister "a hay pole," while he likened herself to "a little sylph, fairy;" &c., but she dared not; and Henry, bent on finding fault, touched her white bare shoulder, saying "I wish you wouldn't wear such dresses. Mary don't except at parties, and I heard a gentleman say that she displayed better taste than any young lady of his acquaintance."
Ella was thoroughly angry, and amid a fresh shower of tears exclaimed, "Mary,—Mary,—I'm sick of the name. It's nothing but Mary,—Mary all day long with Mrs. Campbell, and now you must thrust her in my face. If you think her so perfect, why don't you marry her, instead of me?"
"Simply because she won't have me," returned Henry, and then not wishing to provoke Ella too far, he playfully threw his arm around her waist, adding "But come, my little beauty, don't let's quarrel any more about her. I ought to like my sister, and you shouldn't be jealous. So throw on your cloak, and let's be off."