“Frank Hallock, you know better! I’m ashamed of you!” cried a breezy voice from under the window—and there was Harry Cornwall!
Kate drew her head in quickly, and disappeared from sight and sound; while Frank glowered down at Harry’s earnest face, upturned to meet his angry stare.
“Frank,” said Harry after a moment’s peering cautiously about, lest he be overheard—“now, Frank, neither you nor I think well of a coward, do we?”
“Who calls me a coward?” retorted Frank.
“Frank Hallock will call himself one if he will see himself as others see him. I overheard you asking Kate to fetch you a ladder for you to climb down on, when you know perfectly well that she ought not to do it.”
“Who cares for your ought-nots? Go home—get off these premises!” cried Frank, trembling with rage, and hurling down at Harry the plate that had recently held the pudding.
Harry dodged, and the plate fell, apparently unharmed, upon the grass. Harry picked it up, and walked away with it in his hand.
“Frank Hallock, you’re just the meanest boy alive, and I do wish you were not my brother!” were the next words that reached Frank; and then all was silence and stillness in and about the house until the nearing wheels were heard that brought home Mr. and Mrs. Hallock.
All day long their hours had been saddened by recollections of Frank in his disobedience and his punishment.
“Poor fellow! he will be very willing to ask Kate’s pardon to-night,” said his mother as they drew near home.