“I am not cross, my pet; I am never cross with you, I love you too dearly; but you try my patience sometimes, and just now I am overstrained—and then I did want to make you understand.”
“Now papa’s dead I’ll do no more lessons, shall I?” asked Jamie, coaxingly.
“You must, indeed, and with me instead of papa.”
“Not rosa, rosæ?”
“Yes, rosa, rosæ.”
Then he sulked.
“I don’t love you a bit. It is not fair. Papa is dead, so I ought not to have any more lessons. I hate rosa, rosæ!” He kicked the legs of the chair peevishly with his heels. As his sister said nothing, seemed to be inattentive—for she was weary and dispirited—he slapped her cheek by raising his hand over his head.
“What, Jamie, strike me, your only friend?”
Then he threw his arms round her again, and kissed her. “I’ll love you; only, Ju, say I am not to do rosa, rosæ!”
“How long have you been working at the first declension in the Latin grammar, Jamie?”