'It is not kind of you to laugh,' said he, sulkily; 'you do not know what it is to have your head turned, and to feel yourself pulled about and drawn along against your will. It is like "oranges and lemons," as we played at school, when you are on the weakest side.'
'Whither can Mrs. Veale draw you? Not to the altar rails, surely.'
'Oh no! not to the altar-rails. Mrs. Veale is a bad un.'
His manner puzzled Honor. She was convinced he was not telling her everything.
'What is it, Charles?' she said; 'you may give me your confidence. Tell me all that troubles you. What is behind? I know you are keeping back something from me. If I can advise and help you, I will do so. I am your nearest sister.' Then she put her arms round his neck and kissed him.
'Don't do that' said he, roughly. 'I hate scenes, sisterly affection and motherly counsel, and all that sort of batter-pudding without egg and sugar. I reckon I am outgrown that long ago. I have been a soldier and know the world. If you think to pin me to your apron, as you have pinned father, you are mightily mistaken. No; I will tell you no more, only this—don't be surprised if I leave Langford. Ninepence a day is not enough to hold me.'
'Oh, Charles, I entreat you to stay. You have regular work there and regular pay. As for Mrs. Veale——'
'Curse Mrs. Veale!' interrupted Charles, and with a stamp of his iron-shod heel he broke the corners of the slate slab. Then he stood up.
'Look here, Honor. I mustn't forget a message. Old Langford wants to see my father mighty particular, and he is to come up to the house to have a talk with him. He told me so himself, and indeed sent me here. Father is to come up this evening, as he is not at home now. You will remember to send him, Honor?'
'Yes,' she answered, bending her face over her work, 'yes, I shall not forget, Charles.'