"Only one of Master Alfred's freaks, ma'am. He thought he would leap over the table."
Alfred was holding his handkerchief to his nose. He would not acknowledge that it bled.
"We thought the house was falling," said Alice. "It was worse than papa. He gave us the first fright."
"And all because he has come into some money, he says, Miss Raynor," put in the nurse, who was angrily picking up the table, "and the money is to buy him everything under the sun."
"Unseemly boasting, Alfred!" cried Edina. "Had you no thought for your poor aunt?"
"I don't see why I should have, Edina," returned the boy, boldly. "I never saw Aunt Atkinson in my life: why should I pretend to be sorry for her?"
"I never said you were to pretend anything, child. Sorrow is real enough, and perhaps, Alfred, you will find that it comes to you often enough in life, without assuming it. But there is a great difference between feigning sorrow, and being especially elated. As to the fortune, it may not make very much difference to you in any way."
"Oh, won't it though, Edina! Charley's not going to get it all."
"About the blinds, ma'am? Are they to be kept down?"
"I don't know, nurse. I will ask Mrs. Raynor.