Sam laughed, and said, “I did promise Papa to be conformable.” “And I was very much obliged to you yesterday evening. The behaviour of the other boys depends so much on you.” “Yes, I know,” said Sam; “and I don’t mind it so much now I see you can stand up for yourself.” “Besides, what would it be if I had to write to your father that I could not manage such a bear-garden?” “I’ll take care that sha’n’t happen,” exclaimed Sam. “It would hinder all the good to Mamma! I’ll tell you what,” he added, after a confidential pause, “if we get beyond you, there’s Mr. Carey.” “I thought you did not mean to get beyond me.” Sam looked a little disconcerted, and it struck her that, though he would not say so, he was doubtful whether the Greville influence might not render Henry unmanageable; but he quickly gave it another turn. “Only you must not plague us about London manners.” “I don’t know what you mean by London manners. Do you mean not bawling at tea? for I mean to insist upon that, I assure you, and I want you to help me.” “Oh! not being finikin, and mincing, and nonsensical!” “I hope I’m not so!” said Miss Fosbrook, laughing heartily; “but I’ll tell you one thing, Sam, that I do wish you would leave off—and that is teazing. I don’t know whether that is country manners, but I don’t like to see a sensible kind fellow like you just go out of your way to say something mortifying to a younger one.” “You don’t know,” said Sam. “It is fun. They like it.” “If they really like it, there is no objection. I know I should like very much to have my brother here quizzing me; but you know very well there are two sorts of such fun, and one that is only sport to the stronger side.” “Bessie is so ridiculous.” “She is the very one I want to protect. I don’t think that teazing her does any good; it only gives her cross feelings. And she really has more right on her side than you think. You might be just as honest and bold if you were less rude and bearish.” “I can’t bear to see her so affected and perked up.” “It is not affectation. She is really more gentle and quiet than you are; you don’t think it so in your Mamma, and she is like her.” “Mamma is not like Bessie.” “And then about Davy. How could you go and stop the poor little boy when he was trying to think and feel rightly?” “He was so funny,” repeated Sam. “I hope you will think another time whether your fun is safe and kind.” “One can’t be so particular,” he said impatiently. “I am sorry to hear it. I thought the only way to do right was to be particular.” He grunted, and flung away from her. She was vexed to have sent him off in such a mood; but, unmannerly as he was, she saw so much good in him, that she could not but hope he would be her friend and ally.