“Confound John Waule! I did not mean to make you angry. I didn’t know you had any reason for being grateful to me. I forgot what a great service you think it if anyone snuffs a candle for you.”
Fred also had his pride, and was not going to show that he knew what had called forth this outburst of Mary’s.
“Oh, I am not angry, except with the ways of the world. I do like to be spoken to as if I had common sense. I really often feel as if I could understand a little more than I ever hear even from young gentlemen who have been to college.”
Mary had recovered, and she spoke with a suppressed rippling undercurrent of laughter pleasant to hear.
“I don’t care how merry you are at my expense this morning,” said Fred, “I thought you looked so sad when you came upstairs. It is a shame you should stay here to be bullied in that way.”
“Oh, I have an easy life—by comparison. I have tried being a teacher, and I am not fit for that: my mind is too fond of wandering on its own way. I think any hardship is better than pretending to do what one is paid for, and never really doing it. Everything here I can do as well as anyone else could; perhaps better than some—Rosy, for example. Though she is just the sort of beautiful creature that is imprisoned with ogres in fairy tales.”
“ Rosy! ” cried Fred, in a tone of profound brotherly scepticism.
“Come, Fred!” said Mary, emphatically; “you have no right to be so critical.”
“Do you mean anything particular—just now?”
“No, I mean something general—always.”