Her father and brothers went to bed and left her there--all but Richard.

He remained in a corner of the settle, his slim length flung out carelessly, his head tipped back as if he were asleep; but his black eyes flashed bright under their lids at his sister whenever she did not look at him.

Madelon said not a word until her tasks were done; then she came and stood in front of Richard, and looked at him, frowning a little, for her pride was stung at his treatment of her, but holding out her hand.

"Can't you bid me good-night, Richard ?" said she, and tried to smile at him with that old loving comradeship which he had disowned.
The boy maintained his sullen silence for a moment, and Madelon waited.

Then suddenly he cried, "Good-night," with sharp intonations, like the response of a surly dog, and sprang up and thrust something hard into her hand, with such roughness that it hurt her, and she started.
"'Tis a wedding-present for you," Richard said, savagely, with averted face.