“Well?” Fred said in the same tone, while Herbert went on:
“I must go to college and Louie must go to school and get polished up in the ways of the world, different from Merivale—a one-horse town, you know.”
The hardness of Fred’s voice seemed to have passed to his face, but Herbert was not looking at him, as he continued:
“It is better to keep quiet if I want any peace. Father would row it awfully, if he knew, and I might not be able to stand four years of blowing.”
“Not for Louie?” Fred asked.
“Why, yes,” Herbert replied, “for her, if for anybody, but continual dropping wears the stone and father is terrible at a nag. He has a great antipathy to Mr. Grey, although he doesn’t know a thing against him, for sure, except that he came here poor, and lived in the White Row, as our tenant, and Mrs. Grey took in sewing.”
“That does not hurt Louie any,” was Fred’s prompt response.
“Certainly not,” Herbert said very cheerfully, glad that Fred saw it in the right light. “But it hurts her with father, who might get so furious as to disinherit me. It is in him. You don’t know father.”
“And if he did, would you give up Louie?” Fred asked, and something in his voice made Herbert look at him quickly.
“By George!” he exclaimed, “I believe you are half in love with her, yourself.”