David, too, with his power of escape at any time into a world of books and dreams or simply into the wild shepherd life of the moors, was often inclined to a vague irritation with Louie's state of perpetual revolt.

The food was nasty, their clothes were ugly and scanty, Aunt Hannah was as hard as nails--at the same time Louie was enough to put anybody's back up.

What did she get by it ?--that was his feeling; though, perhaps, he never shaped it.

He had never felt much pity for her.

She had a way of putting herself out of court, and he was, of course, too young to see her life or his own as a whole.