“Has Cor nothing to do but to wait upon you?” she cried, “and nothing to listen to but your noise and your racket? You shall go to bed early to-day, and then I shall have some peace.”
“No, no, Cor. Please let Ruky wait till the stars come. Ruky wants to see the stars.”
“Hush! Ruky is bad. He shall have a whipping when Uncle comes back from town.”
Nep growled.
“Ha! ha!” laughed Ruky, jerking his head saucily from side to side; “Nep says ‘No!’”
Nep was shut out of the cottage for his pains, and poor Ruky was undressed, with many a hasty jerk and pull.
“You hurt, Cor!” he said, plaintively. “I’m going to take off my shoes my own self.”
“No, you’re not,” cried Cora, almost shaking him; and when he cried she called him naughty, and said if he did not stop he should have no supper. This made him cry all the more, and Cora, feeling in her angry mood that he deserved severe punishment, threw away his supper and put him to bed. Then all that could be heard were Ruky’s low sobs and the snappish clicks of Cora’s needles, as she sat knitting, with her back to him.
He could not sleep, for his eyelids were scalded with tears, and his plaintive “Cor! Cor!” had reached his sister’s ears in vain. She never once looked up from those gleaming knitting-needles, nor even gave him his good-night kiss.
It grew late. The uncle did not return. At last Cora, sulky and weary, locked the cottage door, blew out her candle, and lay down beside her brother.