He was too nervous and angry willingly to grant even so small a request just then.
"I can listen as well standing here," he answered crossly.
"But I can't talk as well when you stand," insisted Mrs. Graves, peevishly. "Frederick! What's happened to you since your father died? That squatter girl's turned your head. I know it. She's completely spoiled you."
Tessibel and all her girlish sweetness came vividly across the boy's mind. It was ridiculous to blame Tess. Ah, if he were as good as Tess desired him to be, his life would be the most exemplary.
"Please leave her name out of it, will you?" he rasped rudely. "Even if I can't see her, I won't hear anything against her."
Mrs. Graves sat up in bed, throwing back wisps of gray hair, that persisted in falling over her nose.
"Oh, you won't, eh?" she shrilled loudly. "Well, now, you listen to me.... You'll hear what I please to say to you, young man. It's a good thing you don't go to Skinner's any more. It's time you were interested in a decent girl. You've got to marry sometime. It's just as easy to love a rich girl as a poor one. Why don't you propose to Madelene Waldstricker?"
"Madelene's all right, I suppose," the boy answered "but I don't want to marry her."
"You better want to," his mother rejoined tartly. "You've got to do just that very thing."
"You're crazy, Mother. I won't do it. What do you take me for, anyhow? Get that idea out of your head and keep it out."
"If your father were here, you wouldn't dare to say such things to me.... I want you to sit down, do you hear?"
Frederick dropped into a chair wearily. The time had come to tell his mother that Tessibel Skinner was his wife. After that was done, there could be no such arguments. He started to speak, but his mother interrupted him.
"Madelene Waldstricker's wild over you," she explained. "You can't deny you've shown her open attention, at the same time you've been stealing down to that Skinner girl's hut.... Oh, don't deny it any more! But Madelene doesn't know very much about that, and she has lots of money. It's your duty to Babe and me."
"I won't marry her, or anyone else," Frederick repeated.
His voice was very low but every word was distinct.
Mrs. Graves lifted her pillow, turned it over, patted, and sank back upon it.
"Why?" she demanded, searching his face with accusing eyes. "Because of that fisherman's--"
Now he would tell her; now he would explain! He coughed, took out his handkerchief and wiped his lips.