“Brutal?” Hervey laughed coarsely. “You’re getting particular. The house won’t be a fit place to live in with an engaged couple in it. I should have thought mother would have known better than to have asked him.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
Prudence moved from her stand. The dog, Neche, had slowly emerged from round the corner of the barn, and was now mouching leisurely towards her. She went over to meet him and caress his great ugly head.
“I’m not absurd.” Hervey followed her movements with no very friendly gaze. He hated with an unreasonable hatred to see her go near the dog. “I know what engaged couples are. Look at the way some of the clowns around here carry on with their girls. When Mr. Robb Chillingwood takes up 188 his abode here, I shall depart, I tell you straight. I think mother should have consulted me first. But, there, I suppose that little vixen Alice arranged it all. I hate that chum of yours.”
“There’s nothing like mutual regard, whatever its quality,” laughed Prudence; but there was a look of anger in her deep brown eyes. “You are at liberty to please yourself as to your goings or comings––they make no difference to the work of the farm.”
The girl’s face was turned defiantly upon her brother. Hervey spun the chambers of the pistol round. His eyes remained upon the weapon, and his forefinger pressed sharply upon the trigger. He looked thoughtfully over the fore-sight and rested the pistol in the crook of his upraised, bent left arm. His attitude was one of taking steady aim. He made no reply.
Suddenly Prudence felt the bristling of Neche’s mane under her hand. And she sought to soothe him. This dog’s displays of sudden temper were as unaccountable as they were fierce.
“What are you going to do to-day?” she asked, as her brother did not speak and the dog quietened.
“Going over to Iredale’s place. Why?”
“When shall you return?”