“Oh!” she cried, “that mustn’t be. You must not make such a sacrifice for us.”
“I’d do more than that for you,” I said, and I couldn’t help putting a little emphasis on the last word, though I knew I had no right to do it.
She understood me, and blushed rosily, even while she protested, “It is too much—”
“There’s really no likelihood,” I interrupted, “of my being able to assume a martyr’s crown, Miss Cullen; so don’t begin to pity me till I’m behind the bars.”
“But I can’t bear to think—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted again, rejoicing all the time at her evident anxiety, and blessing my stars for the luck they had brought me. “Why, Miss Cullen,” I went on, “I’ve become so interested in your success and the licking of those fellows that I really think I’d stand about anything rather than that they should win. Yesterday, when Mr. Camp threatened to—” Then I stopped, as it suddenly occurred to me that it was best not to tell Madge that I might lose my position, for it would look like a kind of bid for her favor, and, besides, would only add to her worries.
“Threatened what?” asked Miss Cullen.
“Threatened to lose his temper,” I answered.
“You know that wasn’t what you were going to say,” Madge said reproachfully.
“No, it wasn’t,” I laughed.