“Of course—the ungrateful little flirt! After all the Hintons had done for her, too! Not that I think she’s half good enough for either of my brothers, but—”
“Hush, Emmie! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” Frank said, severely; and Thea, who was drying her eyes on a tiny lace handkerchief, chimed in, reproachfully:
“I don’t think you ought to be mad, Emmie. I can’t see that I’ve done anything wrong. Why, I thought Tom and Frank were my brothers—or just as good—and I’d as soon thought of marrying my grandmother!”
“You never had any grandmother that anybody knows of, and it was an honor to you for either of my brothers to offer to give you a name, as you never had one of your own!” stormed resentful Emmie; but Frank put his hand sternly over her mouth.
“Oh, for shame, Emmie! I would not have believed this of you!” he said, sharply. “But I can see through it, and so can Thea, no doubt. It’s not for Tom and me you’re taking up so angrily, it’s because you’re jealous over Charley McVey! You think maybe she’ll cut you out with him to-night.”
“I don’t—I—” Emmie began to splutter furiously, but a slight tinkle at the door-bell made her start, then rush wildly upstairs.
She knew that Charley had come, according to his promise, to accompany her to the dance.
Frank opened the door, holding a fold of Thea’s dress so that she should not follow Emmie, lest the quarrel be renewed.
“Come in, Charley; walk into the parlor; Emmie’ll be down in a minute,” he said; and as the young man disappeared he whispered, hurriedly:
“Go and bathe your face, Thea, and come along with me to the dance. There’s no one else to go with you now. Emmie,” laughing a little, “would tear your eyes out before she’d let you go with her and Charley.”