"Then I didn't push you."
"You are getting to be a very bad boy, Buck Bradford; and you haven't heard the last of this," she said, rising from her chair, and restoring the griddle to the stove, which Flora had taken off. "I should like to know! Can't I speak to that girl without being treated in that manner? She would let the cakes all burn up before she would touch them."
"I didn't know they were burning, Mrs. Fishley," pleaded Flora. "You didn't tell me to see to them."
"Suppose I didn't tell you! Didn't you know enough not to let them burn? You are a careless, indifferent girl, and it don't make no difference to you how much trouble you make for a body."
"I would have seen to the cakes, if you had spoken to me."
"I don't care anything about the cakes, anyhow," I interposed. "If you can't help scolding Flora, you must keep your hands off her."
"You don't care anything about the cakes! I should like to know! Well, we'll see about it! I'll know who rules here, I vum! I'll call Mr. Fishley! We'll see if you don't care!" rattled Mrs. Fishley, as she bolted from the kitchen through the entry into the store.
"O, Buckland, what will become of us!" exclaimed Flora, rising with difficulty from her chair, and throwing herself upon my breast.
"Don't be afraid, Flora," I replied, pressing her to my heart, while the tears started in my eyes. "She shall not abuse you, whatever happens to me. While she did it only with her tongue, I bore it; but when she took hold of you, I couldn't stand that, Flora—no, I could not."
"I can bear it very well, Buckland." She never called me "Buck," as everybody else did about the place. "I only fear what they will do to you."