The Secret of the Storm Country Part 79

"I taught Tess Skinner a lesson today I don't believe she'll forget," he burst forth savagely.

The doll dropped from Helen's hands, its head striking sharply against the arm of her chair.

"What do you mean?" she gasped.

"You needn't get that expression on your face, my lady--"

"Oh, Ebenezer!" interjected Helen, drearily. "What makes you act so? One would think you spent your whole time trying to get even with somebody."

"I got even with my lady Skinner," smiled Waldstricker. "I gave her brat a whipping." The words came slowly, and the man watched their effect.

Helen was not able to sense the full meaning of his statement at first.

Mechanically, she rescued the doll and laid it on the table. Beginning to see the picture he'd suggested, she opened her mouth, closed it again and at the next attempt spoke.

"Why, Ebenezer, Tessibel's baby is only a month or so older than Elsie!"

"Well, what of it! He's an impudent little whelp. Takes after his mother, I suppose."

"But you don't really mean you whipped him!" Helen exclaimed, still incredulous.

"That's just what I do. With my riding whip. What do you think of that?"

His words brought to Helen's recollection that other time he'd used his riding whip. Then it had been upon Mother Moll, and the old woman had screamed at him, "It air like ye to hit the awful young and the awful old." She recalled, too, the other mysterious words the witch woman had uttered. "Curls'll bring yer to yer knees--the little man air a settin'

on yer chest!" The prophecy addressed to herself, that he'd make her life unhappy and that she'd leave him, she'd never before taken seriously. But the question hammered at her consciousness. Could it be that Moll had a second sight or something of the sort? Ebenezer's trouble about the squatters centered about Andy Bishop and the Skinner girl; the dwarf was certainly a little man and Tessibel had wonderful red curls. Her husband had made her life unhappy and his mood tonight was unusually ugly. She was touched with a superst.i.tious half-conviction that the old woman's words would be fulfilled.

"I asked you a question, Mrs. Waldstricker," the wrathful voice interrupted her meditations. "Answer me, if you please."

Perhaps it was the recollection of Mother Moll's sibylline utterance; perhaps merely that her husband's hostile att.i.tude aroused a corresponding feeling of animosity. At any rate, she sat erect in her chair and fixed her eyes upon his scowling face. Never had he seen her rounded chin so squarely set; never the red lips drawn into such determined lines.

"I think you're a brute, that's what I think!" she responded deliberately, as though stating a conclusion arrived at after due consideration. "Yes, worse than a brute!" The answer was as unexpected to the elder as though a lump of ice had suddenly boiled over. A quick fury took possession of him.

"Think I'm a brute, do you?... What's the matter with you? Are you getting soft on the squatters, too?"

Helen made a hasty gesture, indicative of denial.

"Well, you better not!" warned Ebenezer, angrily. "Your brother's conduct is disgraceful enough. I'm sick and tired of having my own townsfolk winking at each other every time his name's mentioned. Lawyer Young and his squatter women! Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

To be loyal to herself and Deforrest, she could not help but disagree with him.

"Now, Ebenezer, you oughtn't to say such a thing," she expostulated.

A flame of anger shot into the elder's steady stare.

"Don't you 'Now Ebenezer' me!" he snorted. "Young's making my lake property a disorderly house. It's positively indecent! I won't stand it any longer. I won't have those squatters there, and your brother can make up his mind to that!"

Helen tried to interrupt but her husband waved her to silence.

"Mother Moll and Andy Bishop!" he mocked. "An old witch and a jail-bird!

Wouldn't it make a man tired?"

Helen leaned forward. An angry red spot burned on either cheek and her eyes flashed. Her gentle temper didn't take fire easily, but even to her endurance there were limits.

"You seem to forget, Mr. Waldstricker," she retorted sharply, "that your men tore down the old woman's home and your money procured the perjury that sent the dwarf to Auburn. It strikes me you'd better not throw stones at Forrie."

Waldstricker jumped to his feet and rushed to his wife's side.

"What!" he roared. "You dare that to my face! Some more of Deforrest's influence, I suppose. Nice family I married into, I must say."

Helen got up from her chair. The one thing that stirred her quickest was an attack upon her brother.

"Ebenezer Waldstricker, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Forrie minds his own business and you should mind yours." An hysterical sob brought her to a pause, but she struggled on. "I don't know how I've stood your temper so long. You must have lost your mind."

In view of the grievances he'd been nursing, his wife's sudden rebellion seemed almost too unreasonable to be credited. She'd joined his enemies!

She was making common cause with her notorious brother and the squatters! Very well, he'd use her the same as he would them.

"You think rather well of me, don't you Mrs. Waldstricker?" he rasped.

"Nice names you call me. Brute! Home destroyer! Procurer of perjury!

Liar! Crazy!" His voice grew louder as he hurled the epithets at her and broke into a shriek upon the last one. "Get out of here before I teach you the same lesson I taught Tess Skinner!" He lifted his arm above his head; the great fist was clenched, and the cruel mouth was drawn at both corners. "Get out of here before I hit you!"

Helen stood petrified. The blow had fallen. Mother Moll was right! She retreated before his menacing gestures, but stopped near the door and held up her hand in entreaty. She'd make one more effort.

"But, Ebenezer," she began, "where shall I go?"

Advancing toward her, he fairly shouted:

"I don't know and I don't care. Go down and help your brother take care of his squatter baggage!"

He seemed fairly beside himself. Helen realized the hopelessness of further resistance.

"Then I'll go and take my baby," she cried. "Perhaps when we're gone--"

Her words only added fuel to the flame of his wrath.

"You'll not touch my daughter," he interrupted. "She'll stay with me."

He rushed at her, pushed her rudely aside, and hurried up the stairs to the nursery.

His wife followed as quickly as possible. At the nursery door Ebenezer met her and blocked her way.

"You needn't wake her up," he hissed. "Go on! Get out of here! You're worse than the Skinner woman!"

She could not go into the nursery. The angry man on the threshold effectually prevented her. Mrs. Waldstricker turned down the hall and went to her own room. She could hardly comprehend the untoward disaster that had destroyed the whole fabric of her life at one stroke. The blood was throbbing at her temples and pounding through her body. Her ears rang; her face burned and she was trembling all over. Mechanically, she fumbled for the matches on a nearby table, found one and struck it. She attempted to light the lamp but dropped the chimney and it rolled away under the bed.

Drearily, she tried to consider her course. Ebenezer had ordered her to go. Then she must go. She'd always done as he directed. But where? Her cheeks burned more fiercely as she recalled the brutal answer he'd given that question. No, she wouldn't go to Forrie! It would only make Ebenezer more angry and make more trouble for her brother. It didn't make much difference where she went anyway. Life without her husband and her baby wouldn't be life at all. She couldn't visualize her days without Elsie, the little one they'd both longed for and prayed over.

Slowly, because each little act required a separate effort of volition, she dressed herself. Prepared at last to depart, she took a long look through the rooms. Past events went in giddy rapidity across her vision.

How she'd loved and still loved Ebenezer! They'd been so happy together.

She sighed and went through the hall to the nursery. Her movements had evidently been heard. When she approached the door, her husband stepped out and pulled the door to behind him. For a moment their eyes met. In his she saw the dull smoldering coals of hate. She bowed her head and silently went through the baleful glare he cast upon her down the stairs and out of the mansion to which she had been brought a happy bride.