"That is just what makes it pleasant having one's way with her," he replied, smiling down at me, as if amused at his triumph over my obstinacy, and gently pulling my hair by way of caress. "News from the city?" he added after a while.
"There came a message yesterday and two to-day."
Cornelius shook his head impatiently, in a manner habitual to him, and which was ever displaying the heavy masses of his dark hair, but, catching the eye of his sister, he smoothed his brow, and said, smiling--
"I am glad I am so precious."
"It was Mr. Trim who came this evening."
"Very kind of him to call on my handsome sister when I am out of the way."
"He says it is a pity you do not give more of your mind to business."
"I give ninety pounds' worth a year," disdainfully replied Cornelius, "the exact amount of my salary."
"He has got his long-promised government office, with a salary of five hundred a year," continued Miss O'Reilly.
Cornelius half started up on one elbow, to exclaim gaily--
"Kate! has he made you an offer?"
"Nonsense," she replied impatiently, "who is to take the place Trim is leaving vacant?"
"And to do his work," answered Cornelius, indolently sinking back into his previous attitude; "Faith! I don't know, Kate."
"Trim leaves next month," said Miss O'Reilly, looking at her brother.
"Let him, Kate."
"Will you allow that Briggs to step in?"
"Why not, poor fellow?"
Miss O'Reilly's brown eyes sparkled. She gave the fire a vigorous and indignant poke.
"Will you let that Briggs walk upon you?" she asked vehemently.
"Yes," answered Cornelius, yawning slightly, "I will, Kate."
"You have no spirit!"
"None."
He spoke with irritating carelessness. From reproach she changed to argument.
"It would make a great difference in the salary, Cornelius!"
"And in the work, Kate. I shudder to think of the dull letters that unfortunate Briggs will have to write. The tedious additions, subtractions, and divisions he must go through, make my head ache for him."
"Do you fear work, Cornelius?"
"I hate it, Kate."
Again she poked the fire; then looked up at her brother, and said decisively--
"I don't believe it."
He laughed.
"You idle? Nonsense! I don't believe it."
"Then you ought; nothing but the direct necessity daily hunts me to the city."
"I hate the city!"
"Why so, poor thing? It is only a little smoky, dingy, noisy, and foggy, after all."
"I wish," hotly observed Miss O'Reilly, "that instead of pulling that unfortunate child's hair as if it were the ear of a spaniel, you would talk sense. Come here, Primrose," she added, impatiently, addressing me.
Instead of going I looked at Cornelius. I sat by him on the edge of the sofa, and he was in the act of mechanically unrolling a stray lock of my hair.
"Well!" said Miss O'Reilly
He smiled; but his look said I was to obey his sister; I went up to her a little reluctantly. She made me sit down on a low cushion at her feet, then resumed--
"Cornelius, will you talk sense?"
"Kate, I will."
"Do you, or do you not, like the life you have chosen?"
He did not answer.
"I always thought a stool in an office unworthy of your talents and education. If you do not like it, leave it; if you do like it, seek at least to rise."
"Viz.: Get up on a higher stool, do more work, earn more money, and end the year as I began it--a poor devil of a clerk."
"Why be a clerk at all?"
"Because, though I am idle, I must work to live. Ask me no more, Kate; I have no more to tell you."
He threw himself back on the sofa in a manner that implied a sufficient degree of obstinacy.
"Will you have any supper?" asked his sister, as composedly as if nothing had passed between them.
"Yes, Kate, my dear," he answered pleasantly. She rose and left the room.
As the door closed on her, Cornelius half rose and bent forward; from careless his face became serious; from indifferent, thoughtful and attentive, like that of one engaged in close argument; then he looked up and shook his head with a triumphant smile; but chancing to catch my eye, as I sat facing him on the low stool where Miss O'Reilly had left me, he started slightly, and exclaimed, with a touch of impatience--
"Don't look so like a fairy, child! take a book." And bending forward he took from the table a volume of engravings, which he handed to me, informing me I should find it more entertaining than his face. I never looked up from the volume until Deborah brought in the supper.