“Mamma was scolding papa for something--something about Valentine,” said Violet. “I did not hear what it was.”
“Indeed your papa seems to have spoken in far from a nice spirit, my dear, though I don’t like to say it to you,” said Lady Eskside. “What was it about, Val? some boatman whom he called your bosom friend.”
“Oh!” cried Violet, clasping her hands together, “it must have been Mr Brown. Papa used to talk of him for long and long after.”
“And did you think, Violet,” said the old lady, severely, “that my boy made him his bosom friend?”
“Oh, Lady Eskside! he was so nice and so grateful to Val. I took such a fancy to him,” cried Vi, with a blush and a smile, “because he was so grateful. He said Mr Ross had done everything for him. Bosom friend! He looked--I don’t think I ever saw a man look so before--women do sometimes,” said Violet, with precocious comprehension--“as if he would have liked to be hurt or done some harm to for Val’s sake.”
“It is the boy I told you about, grandma,” said Val--“the one that Grinder made himself disagreeable about; as if a fellow couldn’t try to be of use to any other fellow without being had up! He rowed them up the river on the 4th of June. He ain’t my bosom friend,” he added, laughing; “but I’d rather have him to stand by me in a crowd than any one I know--so that Mr Pringle was right.”
“But he did not mean it so; it was ill-meant, it was ill-meant!” cried Lady Eskside. Violet looked at them both with entreating looks.
“Papa may have said something wrong, but I am sure he did not mean it,” said Vi, with the dew coming to her pretty eyes. Lady Eskside shook her head; but as for Val, his anger had stolen away out of his heart like the moisture on the grass when the sun comes out; but the sun at the moment had an azure radiance shining out of a blue gown.