So after
a minute or two of uneasy talk the old man pulled out his watch
again, excused himself, and took his departure.

"Look here," began Mr. Wright when he and Hetty were left alone:
"You are taking too much on yourself."

He had never spoken to her quite so harshly.

"I am sorry, William," she answered, keeping her tears well under
control. For months she had been planning her little surprise, and
its failure hurt her cruelly. "I had no thought of displeasing you."

"Oh, I daresay you meant it for the best. But I choose to be master
in my own house, that's all. Another time, if you have more money
than you know what to do with, just come and consult me. I've no
notion of being made to look small before your uncle, and I don't
stomach it."

He turned away growling. He had spoken only of the repaid loan, but
they both knew that this had nothing to do with his ill temper.

At the door he faced round again. "What were you talking about when
I came in?" he asked suspiciously.

"Uncle was congratulating us. He is delighted to know that the
business is doing so well and complains that he seldom gets sight of
you nowadays, your hands are so full."

"And pray what the devil has it to do with him, how I spend my time?"
He pulled himself up on the oath, and seeing her cheek flush, he too
reddened, but went on, if anything, more violently. "You've a trick
in your family of putting your fingers into other folks' pies: you're
known for it. There's that Holy Club I hear about. Your clever
brothers can't be content, any more than your father, to let honest
folks alone, but are for setting right the whole University of
Oxford. I warn you, that won't do with me. 'Live and let live' is
my motto: let me alone and I'll let you alone. You Wesleys think
mightily of yourselves; but you're neither king nor Parlyment, and
that I'll have you learn."

It was not a dignified exit and he knew it: by brooding over it
through the afternoon his temper grew more savage. That evening he
spent at the "Turk's Head" and slouched home at midnight divided
between contrition and bravado.

Hetty was in bed, pretending sleep. Had she known it, a word from
her might have mended matters. Even had he found her in tears there
was enough good nature in the man to have made him relent.

At sight of her beautiful face he felt half-inclined to awake her and
have the quarrel cleared up. But, to begin with, he was not wholly
certain