honest. They will not lend themselves to stinging the hand that would help them. You throughout are thinking of yourselves, not of them." So saying, she swept with dignity into the little kitchen adjoining, shutting the door with something very like a bang.
Dick looked abashed. The father, with a thump on the table, and a somewhat proud though subdued expression on his face, exclaimed—
"Just her mother all over. She was a lady, you know. Ran away with me. I was good-looking in those days, and could always make an impression.
"What Gwyneth thinks, she must say. And she will always think for herself, as no woman should, to my thinking. I used to try to tame her. Now I give her head, for her mother's sake, and a bit for my own."
"She's a thund'rin' fine girl all the same," added Dick. "Didn't her eyes flash! I'm sorry we vexed her. I'll go and apologize," and the rash youth entered the kitchen and closed the door.
"Always too much talk. Master Dick," soliloquized the father; "you are putting your head into the lioness's mouth. You'll get more than you bargained for, I'm thinking, and you'll never win my daughter."
Gwyneth, her dress tucked about her, was vigorously "washing up" the supper things. She did not raise her head as the young man entered.
"Miss Elms," he began, "I'm really sorry I vexed you, but you know I must be thorough-going."
"In your own interest," she remarked quietly. "What do you care about the poor you talk so much about? I hate shams."
"I am devoted, you must admit, Miss Elms, to the cause of Labour."
