From the Valley of the Missing Part 47

"What toolhouse, Lemmy?" The dazed eyes looked up at him in surprise.

"Don't try none of yer guff on me. I want to know who ye went to see in Tarrytown, and who the man was that throwed ye over the fence, and then lugged ye off to that vault?"

Scraggy sat up painfully.

"I wasn't throwed over no fence."

"Ye was, 'cause I seed the man when he done it. I wish now that I'd a gone and settled with him. Who was he, Screechy?"

"I dunno," she answered.

Lem bent over her, his eyes blazing with wrath.

"Ye want to git yer batty head a workin' d.a.m.n quick," he shouted, "or I'll slit yer throat with this!" The rusty hook was thrust near the thin, drawn face.

"I can't think tonight," muttered Screech Owl, "'cause the bats be a runnin' 'bout in my head. When I think, I'll tell ye, Lemmy."

"Where be that boy?" demanded Lem.

Scraggy shook her head. Every time she thought of Lem's questions, there was an infernal tapping of unnumbered winged creatures at the walls of her brain.

"There ain't no boy that I knows of," she said listlessly, sinking down again. "And ye wouldn't slit my neck when I ain't done nothin', would ye, Lemmy?"

"Ye has done somethin'," growled Lem. "Ye has kep' that brat from me these years past, and now he's big 'nough I'm goin' to have him! Ye hear?" Every word he uttered came forth with effort. The red mark under his chin moved relentlessly, preventing him from speaking with clearness.

Scraggy writhed beneath the tightening grasp of the man's wet fingers.

"I'll choke ye to death!" Lem gasped, between throaty convulsions.

"Lemmy, Lemmy dear--"

Another twist of Lem's fingers, and the woman sank back unconscious. Lem shook her roughly.

"Scraggy, Scraggy!" he cried wildly. "Set up! I Want to talk to ye! Set up!"

The silence in the gloomy hut, the whiteness of the seemingly dead woman, filled Lem with superst.i.tious dread. He grasped his lantern and ran out, failing to close the door.

The frightened man made off up the hill, and, pa.s.sing through the Stebbins farm by the Gothic church and dark graveyard, he tramped the Trumansburg road to Ithaca. The tracks were covered with water as they had been when Eli had given him the lift toward the settlement. But the flood had so receded that by drawing his trousers up over his boots Lem managed to get through the mud to the bridge. From there he sought the house of Middy Burnes, where he made an agreement with the tugman that the scow should be towed from Ithaca to Tarrytown.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

To usher Everett into her home with the same fond heart as. .h.i.therto was more than Ann could do. Dearly as she loved him, much as she desired to be his wife, it was hard to pardon him for casting aside her interests for those of the dark-browed squatter. But, womanlike, she felt that she could break down her lover's determination, and resolved that she would not hesitate to open argument with him.

Everett met her with a smile, and her lips trembled as they received his warm kiss. After they were seated he said:

"Horace has told you, no doubt, Ann, of the children's case." She nodded her head sorrowfully. "Your brother seems to feel," went on Everett, "that I should not have taken charge of it."

"Neither should you have done so, Everett, unless you've other motives than we know of."

She looked up; but lowered her eyes as Brimbecomb glanced at her furtively. Had Fledra told her of his advances? No, or she would never have received his kisses. His fears were quieted by this thought, and he asked gently:

"What motives could I have other than that justice should be done the father? I took the case, first, because it came to me; then, because I think the man ought to have his children."

Miss Sh.e.l.lington's face darkened.

"Oh, Everett, you can't be so hard-hearted as to want those poor little things misused! They have been persecuted by their own people, and you certainly have more heart than to want that to happen again."

"It's not a case of feeling; it's a case of justice. I know how this man has struggled all his life to rear this boy and girl. They've had no mother, and then, as soon as they were old enough and had the chance, they ran away."

"Because he was cruel to them!"

"I don't believe it. I've had something to do with men, and I'm a.s.sured that he told me the truth. I believe, as he says, that they excused their leaving home by brazen lies. Have you never caught them lying to you, Ann?"

"No, no! They've always been truthful to me."

"And to Horace?"

"I haven't asked him. But, if they hadn't been, I am sure he would have spoken of it. Everett, let me plead with you. They have been with us a long time, and Horace and I have grown used to them. They need our care more than I can tell you. The boy is still very ill. Won't you let my love for you plead for them, and withdraw from the case? Do, Dear, and let me call Horace. Will you, Everett? He's so sad over it! Oh! may I call him?" She had risen from her chair; but a negative shake of the man's head made her resume her place again, and she continued, "It will be a dreadful thing for them, if they have to go back. Now, listen, Everett! If you will withdraw and let Horace settle it with that man, our arrangements," her face was dyed crimson,--"I mean your plans and mine for our wedding, shall remain as they are. Otherwise--"

"Otherwise, what?" breathed Everett, bending toward her.

"I--I shall have to postpone them." Her voice had strengthened as she spoke, and the last statement was clear and ringing.

"Oh, you couldn't, Ann! Because I take a perfectly legitimate case, which comes into our office, you propose to postpone our marriage?"

"But, Everett, think of what you are doing! It is as if you had taken my brother by the throat. You were the first one to suggest that he might love the girl. What if he does?"

"We will not talk of Horace, please." Everett turned from her as he spoke. "You and I are the parties interested. If you will aid me, and you should, seeing that you love me, your brother need not be considered."

Ann rose, shuddering.

"You do not mean, Everett, that you wish to gain my consent that Fledra and Floyd should go back to Ithaca?"

Brimbecomb also rose.

"Fledra and Floyd!" he mimicked smilingly. "What a farce it all is! And how foolish to give them such names! I should think the governor and his wife would feel complimented that those kids were called for them! They are but paupers, after all!"

"Everett," stammered Ann, "am I just beginning to know you? Oh, you can't mean it! You're but jesting with me, aren't you, Dear?" Her love for him impelled her forward, and her slender hands fell upon his shoulders. He slipped them off, and gathered her fingers into his.

"Ann," he said earnestly, "I'm not jesting, and I ask you, by your love for me, to aid me in this, the first thing of importance I have ever asked you."

Miss Sh.e.l.lington drew reluctantly away.

"I can't, I can't! My very soul revolts at the idea." Then, gaining strength of voice, the girl, marble-white, exclaimed, "If you're not jesting, and are still determined to follow out your plans," she caught her breath in a sob and whispered, "then, like my brother, I shall have to ask you to leave, please."