Dorothy, though she was silent, was not calm, and was preparing herself for a crusade in her brother's defence.
"Aunt Stanbury, he's my brother, you know." "Of course he's your brother.

I wish he were not." "I think him the best brother in the world,--and the best son." "Why does he sell himself to write sedition ?" "He doesn't sell himself to write sedition.

I don't see why it should be sedition, or anything wicked, because it's sold for a penny." "If you are going to cram him down my throat, Dorothy, you and I had better part." "I don't want to say anything about him, only you ought--not--to abuse him--before me." By this time Dorothy was beginning to sob, but Miss Stanbury's countenance was still very grim and very stern.
"He's coming home to Nuncombe Putney, and I want to--see--see him," continued Dorothy.
"Hugh Stanbury coming to Exeter! He won't come here." "Then I'd rather go home, Aunt Stanbury." "Very well, very well," said Miss Stanbury, and she got up and left the room.
Dorothy was in dismay, and began to think that there was nothing for her to do but to pack up her clothes and prepare for her departure.
She was very sorry for what had occurred, being fully alive to the importance of the aid not only to herself, but to her mother and sister, which was afforded by the present arrangement, and she felt very angry with herself, in that she had already driven her aunt to quarrel with her.

But she had found it to be impossible to hear her own brother abused without saying a word on his behalf.

She did not see her aunt again till dinner-time, and then there was hardly a word uttered.