He planted his stick on the ground, and stared fixedly in Mollie’s face. The grey eyes fell before his, and she answered hesitatingly—
“I’m—I’m afraid it was.”
“And do you think it was good manners to write in such a way of your host?”
“No, I don’t; I think it was hateful. But—”
“But?”
Mollie took a step forward, and laid a timid hand on his arm.
“But, in a sort of way, it is true. You shut yourself up, and you do growl, and even when you are kind, you pretend to be cross. We have tried and tried to be friends with you, but you won’t let us. We have said over and over again that we felt as if we were living in an hotel, and it has been a trouble to us all. I don’t wonder you feel angry; but don’t you think you are a wee bit in the wrong yourself?”
Mr Farrell stared down at the eager face, the wide grey eyes, the little hand upon his arm, then deliberately drew himself away, saying coldly—
“You would make a good lawyer, my dear. You have a clever trick of evading an awkward question, and shifting the blame from your own shoulders. You will excuse me if I say that I can scarcely consent to discuss my own conduct with a girl of your years. The point I mentioned was your own conduct in writing disrespectfully of your host.”
“I know, and I’ve said already that it was horrid; but it was not so horrid as you think. Trix is my sister, and we all have a habit of exaggerating and using stronger terms than we really mean. We have a habit of giving nicknames, too. They are not complimentary as a rule, but we don’t mean to be unkind. If you read some of Trix’s other letters, you would see that we have not been altogether ungrateful. Will you read them? I have them all upstairs, and could bring them down in a moment.”