l,
shouted and clapped his hands; Brownie barked, the kitten, desperate,
jumped on the tea-table and upset the milk, then jumped down again and
swept half the cherries with it; and Ben, snatching up the half-knitted
sock-top, fitted it over the kitten's head as a new source of madness,
while Letty arriving cried out to her mother against this cruelty--it
was a history as full of sensation as "This is the house that Jack
built." Mrs. Garth was obliged to interfere, the other young ones came
up and the tete-a-tete with Fred was ended. He got away as soon as he
could, and Mrs. Garth could only imply some retractation of her
severity by saying "God bless you" when she shook hands with him.

She was unpleasantly conscious that she had been on the verge of
speaking as "one of the foolish women speaketh"--telling first and
entreating silence after. But she had not entreated silence, and to
prevent Caleb's blame she determined to blame herself and confess all
to him that very night. It was curious what an awful tribunal the mild
Caleb's was to her, whenever he set it up. But she meant to point out
to him that the revelation might do Fred Vincy a great deal of good.

No doubt it was having a strong effect on him as he walked to Lowick.
Fred's light hopeful nature had perhaps never had so much of a bruise
as from this suggestion that if he had been out of the way Mary might
have made a thoroughly good match. Also he was piqued that he had been
what he called such a stupid lout as to ask that intervention from Mr.
Farebrother. But it was not in a lover's nature--it was not in
Fred's, that the new anxiety raised about Mary's feeling should not
surmount every other. Notwithstanding his trust in Mr. Farebrother's
generosity, notwithstanding what Mary had said to him, Fred could not
help feeling that he had a rival: it was a new consciousness, and he
objected to it extremely, not being in the least ready to give up Mary
for her good, being ready rather to fight for her with any man
whatsoever. But the fighting with Mr. Farebrother must be of a
metaphorical kind, which was much more difficult to Fred than the
muscular. Certainly this experience was a discipline for Fred hardly
less sharp than his disappointment about his uncle's will. The iron
had not entered into his soul, but he had begun to imagine what the
sharp edge would be. It did not once occur to Fred that Mrs. Garth
might be mistaken about Mr. Farebrother, but he