"I hope you won't blame Jay," she said, "for it is safe to say it is the man's fault. They tease him shamefully, and he is such a little fellow."
Mr. Andrews' face softened at these words. It was plain she thought he was severe with his children, but that was lost in the sweetness of hearing any one plead for his little boy with that intuitive and irrational tenderness.
"I want to hit him!" interrupted Jay, doubling up his fist. "I want to hit him right in his ugly mouth."
"Hush," said his father, frowning, "little boys must not hit any one, least of all, their father's servants. You come to me whenever they trouble you, and I will make it right."
"You're never here when they do it," said the child.
"Well, you keep quiet, and then come and tell me when I get home."
"I forget it then," said Jay, naively.
"Then I think it can't go very deep," returned his father, smiling.
"It will go deep enough to spoil his temper utterly, I'm afraid," said Missy, biting her lips to keep from saying more.
"I am sorry enough," he began earnestly, but catching sight of her face, his voice grew more distant. "I suppose it is inevitable," he added slowly, as Jay, loosing his hold of his father's hand, picked up his hat, straightened his frock, and went over to Missy's side.