I got up very quickly, and retreated toward the door.
"What?" said Mr. Rutledge, rising and standing by the fire. "You are going? Why, we have but just made up."
"I am not quite positive that we have," I answered, lighting my candle. "It's rather a one-sided make-up, it strikes me."
"How so? You surely haven't any complaint to make of me, after all my unexampled goodness to you?"
"Of course not!" I exclaimed; "nothing to say about your treating me like a baby, and expecting me to behave like a woman, making me talk to make you laugh, and putting my French and my temper to the hardest tests you could think of; and then, after I've vexed you by a little inattention, pushing me aside, as if I weren't capable of understanding a reproof, and turning your back on me for a whole evening. I have nothing to complain of, of course! Good night, sir."
"Stay a moment! You take away my breath with all that catalogue. I tease you! I laugh at you! Impossible!"
"So I said, sir; and now, if you please, good night."
"Ah! I see I must get you away to your aunt; I shall spoil you if I keep you here much longer. You are getting very saucy; Miss Crowen wouldn't own you."
"I am afraid you are right there," I said, with a little sigh; "I don't think I am improving very much."
"Well, then," he said, seriously, "suppose we determine to do better for the future, and instead of trifling and teasing, be good sensible friends. Will that suit you?"