He ventured this remark without any intention to insult; but
Heathcliff's violent nature was not prepared to endure the
appearance of impertinence from one whom he seemed to hate, even
then, as a rival. He seized a tureen of hot apple sauce (the first
thing that came under his gripe) and dashed it full against the
speaker's face and neck; who instantly commenced a lament that
brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to the place. Mr. Earnshaw
snatched up the culprit directly and conveyed him to his chamber;
where, doubtless, he administered a rough remedy to cool the fit of
passion, for he appeared red and breathless. I got the dishcloth,
and rather spitefully scrubbed Edgar's nose and mouth, affirming it
served him right for meddling. His sister began weeping to go
home, and Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.

'You should not have spoken to him!' she expostulated with Master
Linton. 'He was in a bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit;
and he'll be flogged: I hate him to be flogged! I can't eat my
dinner. Why did you speak to him, Edgar?'

'I didn't,' sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, and finishing
the remainder of the purification with his cambric pocket-
handkerchief. 'I promised mamma that I wouldn't say one word to
him, and I didn't.'

'Well, don't cry,' replied Catherine, contemptuously; 'you're not
killed. Don't make more mischief; my brother is coming: be quiet!
Hush, Isabella! Has anybody hurt you?'

'There, there, children - to your seats!' cried Hindley, bustling
in. 'That brute of a lad has warmed me nicely. Next time, Master