The Quarrel

"Keep your opinions to yourself," growled Frederick. "I've no wish to hear them."

Madelene was about to put her foot into the stirrup. Instead, she stood while fresh tears gathered under her lids.

"Frederick, you're cruel and awfully ugly to me," she said plaintively. "How can you do such things after all the money I've given you?"

Frederick expressed his feeling by a cynical little laugh.

"Perhaps if you didn't throw up your confounded benevolence so often, I might show more gratitude," he snapped back.

Then he lifted her to the saddle, gave her the bridle, and walked beside her to the barn.

His thoughts were busy until, when they reached home, the silence between them was appalling. Thankful to be a few minutes by himself, the young man went away to stable the horses and his wife entered the house. Madelene found her brother sitting before the grate fire. Helen looked up and smiled at her sweetly.

"Come and get warm, dear," she said. "You've had a long ride, haven't you?... Why, what's the matter, Madelene?"

Mrs. Graves dropped into a chair.

"I'm so awfully unhappy," she cried, "and Frederick's as mean as he can be.... I hate that Skinner girl!"

Mrs. Waldstricker dropped her work into her lap.

Ebenezer looked at his sister critically.

"What's she done to you now?" he asked, without waiting for his wife to speak.

Madelene flung up an angry, flushed face.

"She's done enough! I hate her and always shall. She sent for Frederick to come down there--and he went--"