he'll touch nothing, not he:
and I suppose he must have his share of the dainties as well as we.'

'He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him downstairs till
dark,' cried Hindley. 'Begone, you vagabond! What! you are attempting
the coxcomb, are you? Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks--see
if I won't pull them a bit longer!'

'They are long enough already,' observed Master Linton, peeping from the
doorway; 'I wonder they don't make his head ache. It's like a colt's
mane over his eyes!'

He ventured this remark without any intention to insult; but Heathcliff's
violent nature was not prepared to endure the appearance of impertinence
from one whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival. He seized a
tureen of hot apple sauce (the first thing that came under his gripe) and
dashed it full against the speaker's face and neck; who instantly
commenced a lament that brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to the
place. Mr. Earnshaw snatched up the culprit directly and conveyed him to
his chamber; where, doubtless, he administered a rough remedy to cool the
fit of passion, for he appeared red and breathless. I got the dishcloth,
and rather spitefully scrubbed Edgar's nose and mouth, affirming it
served him right for meddling. His sister began weeping to go home, and
Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.

'You should not have spoken to him!' she expostulated with Master Linton.
'He was in a bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit; and he'll be
flogged: I hate him to be flogged! I can't eat my dinner. Why did you
speak to him, Edgar?'

'I didn't,' sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, and finishing the
remainder of the purification with his cambric pocket-handkerchief. 'I
promised mamma that I wouldn't say one word to him, and I didn't.'

'Well, don't cry,' replied Catherine, contemptuously; 'you're not killed.
Don't make more mischief; my brother is coming: be quiet! Hush,
Isabella! Has anybody hurt you?'

'There, there, children--to your seats!' cried Hindley, bustling in.
'That brute of a lad has warmed me nicely. Next time, Master Edgar, take
the law into your own fists--it will give you an appetite!'

The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant feast.
They were hungry after their ride, and easily consoled, since no real
harm had befallen them. Mr. Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls, and the
mistress made them merry with lively talk. I waited behi