'Oh, yes. I will make a stand; certainly, certainly,' said Luxmore. 'Now let us change the subject.'
'No,' the girl. 'I cannot, and I will not. Charles must be made to conduct himself properly. I will not allow the little ones to hear his profane talk, see his devil-may-care ways. Mother committed them to me, and I will stand between them and evil. If it comes to a fight, we shall fight. All I wish is that the fight not to be between brother and sister.' Her voice became hard, her brows contracted, her face became pale with intensity of feeling.
'There, there!' groaned Oliver Luxmore, 'don't make out matters worse they are. A sheep looks as big as a cow in a fog. You see ghosts where I see thorn-trees. Be gentler with Charles, not so peremptory. Men will not be ordered about by women. Charles is not a bad boy. There is meat on a trout as well as bones. All will come right in the end.'
Honor said no more. Her eyes filled; she stooped over her needlework to conceal them; her hand moved quickly, but the stitches were uneven.
'I will do something, I will indeed,' said Luxmore, rising. He took his hat and went out, but returned quickly a few minutes later, agitated, and went through the room, saying hastily, 'Honor! he is coming, and—I think—drunk.'
Then he escaped into the back kitchen and out into the paddock in the rear where he kept his horse. That was all the help Honor was likely to get from him—to be forewarned.
Next moment two of the children flew up the steps frightened and heated.
'O, Honor! Charlie is tight!'
Honor stood up, folded her needlework, put it aside, and went to the door.
'Children,' she said, 'go behind into the field to father.' Then she went to the head of the steps and looked down the lane.