crossly, “Take yourself and your dusters off; when company are in the house, servants don’t commence scouring and cleaning in the room where they are!”
“It’s a good opportunity, now that master is away,” I answered aloud: “he hates me to be fidgeting over these things in his presence. I’m sure Mr. Edgar will excuse me.”
“I hate you to be fidgeting in my presence,” exclaimed the young lady imperiously, not allowing her guest time to speak: she had failed to recover her equanimity since the little dispute with Heathcliff.
“I’m sorry for it, Miss Catherine,” was my response; and I proceeded assiduously with my occupation.
She, supposing Edgar could not see her, snatched the cloth from my hand, and pinched me, with a prolonged wrench, very spitefully on the arm. I’ve said I did not love her, and rather relished mortifying her vanity now and then: besides, she hurt me extremely; so I started up from my knees, and screamed out, “Oh, Miss, that’s a nasty trick! You have no right to nip me, and I’m not going to bear it.”