“Then what was it?”
“Nothing worth speaking about.”
“But I want to know what he threatened.”
“Really, Miss Cullen,” I began; but she interrupted me by saying anxiously,—
“He can’t hurt papa, can he?”
“No,” I replied.
“Or my brothers?”
“He can’t touch any of them without my help. And he’ll have work to get that, I suspect.”
“Then why can’t you tell me?” demanded Miss Cullen. “Your refusal makes me think you are keeping back some danger to them.”
“Why, Miss Cullen,” I said, “I didn’t like to tell his threat, because it seemed—well, I may be wrong, but I thought it might look like an attempt—an appeal—Oh, pshaw!” I faltered, like a donkey,—“I can’t say it as I want to put it.”