He snatched the silk out of Madelon's hand and thrust it roughly into Dorothy's.
"Take it home," he said.

"My sister does no work on your wedding-clothes!" Dorothy gasped and looked at him with wild terror in her blue eyes, and then he caught her in his arms, pressed her yellow head against his breast, and stroked it softly.

"Don't be afraid," he said--and his voice had its wonderful gentle charm again.

"Don't be afraid, dear child! I could not harm you if I tried--not a hard word shall be said to you, sweet!" "_Eugene!_" cried Madelon, and her voice seemed to carry wrath like a trumpet.

She laid hold of his shoulders, and forced him back, and Dorothy slipped out of his arms and stood aside, trembling and weeping, with a little worked apron which she wore thrown over her face.