"What did the other do?"

"He insulted him."

"Indeed!"

The tone in which the elderly woman spoke was trying. Hope was flushed,
and warm, and disconcerted. There was so much skepticism and contempt in
the single word "indeed!" as Mrs. Simcoe pronounced it, that Hope was
really angry with her.

"I don't see why you should treat Mr. Newt in that manner," said she,
haughtily.

"In what manner, Hope?" asked the other, calmly, fixing her eyes upon her
companion.

"In that sneering, contemptuous manner," replied Hope, loftily. "Here is
a young man who falls into an unfortunate quarrel, in which he happens to
get the better of his opponent, who chances to be younger. He helps him
carefully into the carriage. He explains upon the spot as well as he can,
and to-day he comes to explain further; and you will not believe him; you
misunderstand and misrepresent him. It is unkind, Aunty--unkind."

Hope was almost sobbing.

"Has he once said he was sorry?" asked Mrs. Simcoe. "Has he told you so
this morning?"