"Oh, I thought that was the reason," said Everett. "All your hard words to me were from your tender, grateful heart. That only makes me like you the better."
Fledra turned to go.
"But I don't like you, and I never will. Let me go now, because I'm goin' down to the scow to Pappy Lon."
Brimbecomb threw out an arm with an impetuous swing; but Fledra darted under it.
"Don't--don't!" she cried brokenly. "Don't you never touch me, never--never! I don't want you to! Let me go now, please."
Everett stepped aside and allowed her to reach the door.
"I shall help you, if I can, child," he put in, as she sprang out. "Remember--"
But Fledra did not wait to hear. She was outside the door and flying down the steps.
* * * * *
The wind came sharply from the north as, dejectedly, the girl made her way to the river. She had decided to appeal to Lon, to beg her future of him. Before she reached the scow, she could hear the gurgle of the river, and the sound of the water came familiarly to her ears. Lem's boat lay like a silent, black animal near the bank, and she came to a stop at sight of it. How many times had she seen the dark boat snuggled in the gloom as she saw it now! How many times before had the candle twinkled from the small window, and the sign of life caused her to shiver in fear! But, thinking of what Lon's consent for her to remain with her dear ones meant, she mounted the gangplank and descended the short flight of stairs.
Lon was seated in a chair by the table, and Lem on a stool nearby. Crabbe rose as the pale girl appeared before him; but Lon only displayed two rows of dark teeth. It seemed to him that all his waiting was over; that his wife's constant haunting of his strong spirit would cease, if he could tear the girl from her high estate and watch the small head bend under the indignities Lem would place upon her. The very fact that she had come when he had sent for her showed the fear in which she held him.
Fledra unloosened her wrap from her throat as if it choked her.
"How d'y' do, Flea?" grinned Cronk. His delight was like that of a small boy who has captured a bright-winged butterfly in a net.
"I got yer letter, Pappy Lon," said Fledra, overlooking his impudent manner.