"He dared to touch me!" she whispered, with her face hidden.
The long afternoon faded into dusk, and then Mackenzie came home. "Where's mother?" he asked.
"She went to see Mrs. Burns. She said she was sick."
"Have you been lonesome, Bee?"
The girl bit her lips. "Not very," she answered grimly.
School was dismissed and the children trooped into the living-room. Robert spoke pleasantly to his uncle, but took no notice of Beatrice.
"Uncle John," she said at length, "what do you think of a person who takes a lady by the shoulders and puts her out of a room?"
"If you had been a lady," retorted Robert, "I wouldn't have put you out."
"Don't quarrel," said Mackenzie. "Life is too short to fuss." He took Chan's violin from the chimney-shelf in the next room, and began to play a lively tune. Ellen and Johnny pranced around the tea-table, and Maria Indiana, with faltering steps, endeavoured to imitate them.
Beatrice laughed, and Robert's heart softened, though he had been very angry with her only a little while before. He was about to beg her pardon for his seeming harshness, when the door burst open and Mrs. Mackenzie rushed in, breathless and white with fear.