“What for?” said Tom. “I don’t want _your_ money, you silly thing. I’ve got a great deal more money than you, because I’m a boy. I always have half-sovereigns and sovereigns for my Christmas boxes because I shall be a man, and you only have five-shilling pieces, because you’re only a girl.” “Well, but, Tom—if mother would let me give you two half-crowns and a sixpence out of my purse to put into your pocket and spend, you know, and buy some more rabbits with it?” “More rabbits? I don’t want any more.” “Oh, but, Tom, they’re all dead.” Tom stopped immediately in his walk and turned round toward Maggie. “You forgot to feed ’em, then, and Harry forgot?” he said, his colour heightening for a moment, but soon subsiding. “I’ll pitch into Harry. I’ll have him turned away. And I don’t love you, Maggie. You sha’n’t go fishing with me to-morrow. I told you to go and see the rabbits every day.” He walked on again. “Yes, but I forgot—and I couldn’t help it, indeed, Tom. I’m so very sorry,” said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast. “You’re a naughty girl,” said Tom, severely, “and I’m sorry I bought you the fish-line. I don’t love you.” “Oh, Tom, it’s very cruel,” sobbed Maggie. “I’d forgive you, if _you_ forgot anything—I wouldn’t mind what you did—I’d forgive you and love you.” “Yes, you’re silly; but I never _do_ forget things, _I_ don’t.” “Oh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break,” said Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging to Tom’s arm, and laying her wet cheek on his shoulder. Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, “Now, Maggie, you just listen. Aren’t I a good brother to you?” “Ye-ye-es,” sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly. “Didn’t I think about your fish-line all this quarter, and mean to buy it, and saved my money o’ purpose, and wouldn’t go halves in the toffee, and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn’t?” “Ye-ye-es—and I—lo-lo-love you so, Tom.” “But you’re a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my lozenge-box, and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish-line down when I’d set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through my kite, all for nothing.” “But I didn’t mean,” said Maggie; “I couldn’t help it.” “Yes, you could,” said Tom, “if you’d minded what you were doing. And you’re a naughty girl, and you sha’n’t go fishing with me to-morrow.” With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away from Maggie toward the mill, meaning to greet Luke there, and complain to him of Harry.