“Father, I cannot,” pleaded the boy, beseechingly.
“You mean you will not, willful boy. But disobey me at your peril!”
The lines about the boy’s mouth grew hard and firm. He looked his father calmly in the eye as he replied:
“I will not, then, if that pleases you better.”
Mr. Ellerton threatened and entreated, coaxed and pleaded, but all to no purpose, for his son was firm as a rock, and at length, in despair, he turned to his friend and asked what he should do.
Squire Leonard looked amused yet perplexed, for it was the most novel affair he had ever had anything to do with.
“Try the other one,” he said, pointing to Dora.
“Dora,” said Mr. Ellerton, trying to frighten her into obedience by a black look, “are you not sorry that you and Robert are married? Just think what a wrong thing for two little children to do.”
Dora looked wistfully up at Robert.
“Robbie,” she asked, sadly, “shall I tell him that I am sorry?”