He paused, and the old sense of discipline that was in his blood
made him obey. He thought that he would find Luke upstairs on the
bed with his face buried in his folded arms, as he had found him a
score of times during their short life.

"I think you are too hard on him," he answered hotly. "It is bad
enough being ploughed, without having to stand abuse afterwards."

"My dear," said Mrs. Harrington, "just you come here and sit beside
me. We will leave Luke to himself for a little. It is much better.
Let him think it out alone."

What was there in this fair-haired boy's demeanour, voice, or being
that appealed to Mrs. Harrington, despite her sterner self?

So Fitz was pacified by the lady's gentler manner, and consented to
remain. He made good use of his time, pleading Luke's cause,
explaining his bad fortune, and modestly disclaiming any credit to
himself for having succeeded where his brother failed. But all the
while the boy was restless, eager to get away and run upstairs to
Luke, who he felt sure was living years in every moment, as children
do in those griefs which we take upon ourselves to call childish.

At last he rose.

"May I go now?" he asked.

"Yes, if you like. But do not bring Luke to me until he is prepared
to apologise for his ingratitude and rudeness."