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 silent, Sylvie gradually was
reassured. Near the end of the meal she put out her hand toward Pete.

"Please don't be so cross with me, Pete! Give me a shake for
forgiveness."

He touched her hand, his eyes lowered, and drew his fingers away. She
laughed.

"How shy you are--a wild, forest thing! I'll have to civilize you."

"Leave him alone," admonished Hugh softly, "leave him alone."

As he said this, he did not look at Sylvie, but gazed somberly at Pete.
It was a strange look, at once appealing and threatening, pitiful and
dangerous. Pete fingered his fork nervously. Finally Bella stood up and
began to clear the table with an unaccustomed clatter of noisy energy.

"How long are you going to keep it up, Pete?" she asked him afterward.
He was helping her wash the dishes, drying them deftly with a piece of
flour-sacking.

"Since we've let it begin, we'll have to go on with it to a finish," he
answered coldly. "After all"--he paused, polished a platter and turned
away to put it on its shelf--"he's not doing anything so dreadful--just
twisting the facts a little. I _am_ an ignorant lout. I might as well be
fourteen, for all I know."

"And I _am_ a mummy of a woman?"

In pity for her he made to put his arm about her. "Don't be a goose,
Bella," he said, but she flung his hand from her. "Why does it make you
so sore and angry?" he asked wistfully. "Hugh is not pretty to look
at, but perhaps Sylvie sees him better than we do--in a way; and if she
learns to love him while she's blind, then, when she sees him, if she
ever sees him--"

"Chances are she never will. If her eyes don't get better soon, they