"Spirit!" said Charlton;--"he ought to have worked off his fingers to their joints before he let you do as you have been doing!"
"Don't say so!" said Fleda, looking even pale in her eagerness--"don't think so, Charlton! it isn't right. We cannot tell what he may have had to trouble him--I know he has suffered and does suffer a great deal.--Do not speak again about anything as you did last night!--Oh," said Fleda, now shedding bitter tears,--"this is the worst of growing poor! the difficulty of keeping up the old kindness and sympathy and care for each other!--"
"I am sure it does not work so upon you," said Charlton in an altered voice.
"Promise me, dear Charlton," said Fleda looking up after a moment and drying her eyes again, "promise me you will not say any more about these things! I am sure it pains uncle Rolf more than you think. Say you will not,--for your mother's sake!"
"I will not, Fleda--for your sake. I would not give you any more trouble to bear. Promise me; that you will be more careful of yourself in future."
"O there is no danger about me," said Fleda with a faint smile and taking up her work again.
"Who are you making shirts for?" said Charlton after a pause.
"Hugh."
"You do everything for Hugh, don't you?"
"Little enough. Not half so much as he does for me."