She leant across him to get the book, and in so doing upset the ink. The bottle was not very full, so not much damage would have been done if Master Francis's exercise-book had not been lying open just in the way.
'Oh! Bess,' he cried in great distress. 'Just look. It was such a long exercise and I had copied it out so neatly, and you know uncle hates blots and untidiness.'
Miss Bess looked very sorry.
'I'll tell papa it was my fault,' she said. But Master Francis shook his head.
'I must copy it out again,' I heard him say in a low voice, with a sigh, as he pushed it away and gave his attention to his cousin and the words she had to learn.
She was quieter after that, for a while, and in half an hour or so Master Francis let her go. He set to work at his unlucky exercise again, and seeing this, should really have sobered Miss Bess. But she was in a queer humour that afternoon, it only seemed to make her more fidgety.
'You really needn't do it,' she said to Master Francis crossly. 'I told you I'd explain it to papa.' But the boy shook his head. He'd have taken any amount of trouble rather than risk vexing his uncle.
'It was partly my own fault for leaving it about,' he said gently, which only seemed to provoke Miss Bess more.
'You do so like to make yourself a martyr. It's quite true what mamma says,' she added in a lower voice, which I did think unkind.
But in some humours children are best left alone for the time, so I took no notice.