“Hey, Joan,” he cried; “hey, come back, I want to speak to you. What have you done with that young fool?”
“I’m not acquainted with any young fools,” she said, almost sharply, and, in her irritation, did not turn round, or even pause, but went straight forward into the house. Her father stood for a few moments switching his boots with the whip in his hand. He was uneasy in spite of himself. He did not intend any special brutality. He meant no harm to his son, only a severe lesson that should bring Harry “to heel,” like one of his pointers. Above all he did not mean any scandal, any storm of rural gossip. He was alarmed by the idea of all that might be said if it were known that Harry had been shut out of his father’s house, for no particular harm, only because he was late of returning home. Accordingly, after a few moments’ indecision, he followed Joan into the house and into the parlour, where he found her, as he felt certain he should, with her mother. The women were clinging together, comforting each other, when he pushed the door open; and they were greatly startled by his appearance. Joan came away from her mother’s side hastily. She did not wish it to be seen that there was moisture in her eyes, or that she had actually--she, the matter-of-fact Joan--been consoling the poor feeble woman whose tendency to make a fuss had always stood between them. “Well,” she said hastily, “what is it, father?” coming in front of Mrs. Joscelyn, and standing with her back to her mother, shielding her from all critical eyes.
Joscelyn threw himself into his chair by the fire, and turned it round towards them. He had caught them, he thought. “What are you two colleaguing about? There’s some mischief up, or two women would never be laying their heads together. Commonly you’re never such friends.”
“If we’re not friends it’s the more shame to us,” said Joan.
“That’s your look out; it isn’t mine. _I_ don’t want you to be friends. You’re a deal better the other way. I’ll not have two of you in corners all about the place taking my character away. _I_ know what that means. As soon as you’ve got some one to talk about, and compare notes, and conspire against----”
“Father, you had better keep a civil tongue in your head,” said Joan. “You say what you like to mother, and she cries; but I’m not one to cry. I am as good as you are, and very nearly as old. I’ll take insolence from no man. It’s just as well you should hear it now; I’ve promised myself you should hear it the first time I was in a passion. Hold your tongue, mother. Obedience is all very well; but a woman of thirty is not like a lass of thirteen, and there are some things that I will not put up with. How dare you, if you are my father, speak like that to me? I am no slave to whisper and to conspire, whoever may be. What do you do for me that you should take all that upon you? I’m a servant without wages. I work as hard as any man about the place, and I neither get credit nor pay; and you think I’ll take all your insults to the boot as if I were a frightened little lass; but you’re mistaken. It isn’t for nothing you lock the door upon your family; and if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head----”