“Well, you are not very lively, Harry,” says Miss Hetty, who began to command him, and perhaps to ask herself, “What? Is this the gentleman whom I took to be such a hero?”
“If he is unhappy, why should he be lively?” asks Theo, gently. “He has a good heart, and is pained at his friends' desertion of him. Sure there is no harm in that?”
“I would have too much spirit to show I was hurt, though,” cries Hetty, clenching her little fists. “And I would smile, though that horrible old painted woman boxed my ears. She is horrible, mamma. You think so yourself, Theo! Own, now, you think so yourself! You said so last night, and acted her coming in on her crutch, and grinning round to the company.”
“I mayn't like her,” said Theo, turning very red. “But there is no reason why I should call Harry's aunt names before Harry's face.”
“You provoking thing; you are always right!” cries Hetty, “and that's what makes me so angry. Indeed, Harry, it was very wrong of me to make rude remarks about any of your relations.”
“I don't care about the others, Hetty; but it seems hard that this one should turn upon me. I had got to be very fond of her; and you see, it makes me mad, somehow, when people I'm very fond of turn away from me, or act unkind to me.”
“Suppose George were to do so?” asks Hetty. You see, it was George and Hetty, and Theo and Harry, amongst them now.
“You are very clever and very lively, and you may suppose a number of things; but not that, Hetty, if you please,” cried Harry, standing up and looking very resolute and angry. “You don't know my brother as I know him—or you wouldn't take—such a—liberty as to suppose—my brother George could do anything unkind or unworthy!” Mr. Harry was quite in a flush as he spoke.
Hetty turned very white. Then she looked up at Harry, and then she did not say a single word.
Then Harry said, in his simple way, before taking leave, “I'm very sorry, and I beg your pardon, Hetty, if I said anything rough, or that seemed unkind; but I always fight up if anybody says anything against George.”