"You're a dear, quiet boy," she said. "I frightened you to death,
then, didn't I? Hasn't anyone ever kissed you before?" His cheek
burned so that, touching it with her fingers, she laughed. "I've made
you blush, poor kid! I know. Boys hate petting, don't they? You'll
have to get used to it, Pete, because I mean to pet you--oh, a lot!
You need some one to draw you out. These two people snub you too much.
Boys of fourteen aren't quite children, after all, are they? Besides,
they're interesting. I know. I was fourteen myself not such ages back.
You're not cross, are you, Pete?"

His eyes were misty, and his hands were cold. He could not understand
his own emotion, his own pain. He muttered something and got himself
away. She called him "sullen" and was angry with him, complaining
to Hugh at supper that "Petey" had been "a bear" to her. Hugh
simulated a playful annoyance and began to scold; then a sort of
nervous fury came over him. He stamped and struck the table and
snarled at Pete. The young man rose at his place and stared at his
brother silently. There were two splotches of deep color on his
cheeks. Sylvie protested: "Don't, please, be so angry with him. I
was only teasing, just in fun. Bella, tell Hugh to stop. I had no
business to kiss Pete. But I just wanted to pet something."

Hugh's threatening suddenly stopped, and Pete sat down. In the
strained silence Bella laughed. Her laughter had the sound of a
snapped bow-string. Sylvie had pushed her chair back a little from
the table and was turning her head quickly from one to the other of
them. Her mouth showed a tremble of uncertainty. It was easy to see
that she sensed a tension, a confusion. Hugh leaned forward and broke
into a good-humored rattle of speech, and as Pete and Bella sat