g my name into scandal, you
worthless trollop, you? Who went along with you? I'll skin the hide off
him, whoever 't was!"

Patty remained mute at this threat, but Waitstill caught her hand and
whispered: "Tell him all, dear; it's got to come out. Be brave, and I'll
stand by you."

"Why are you interferin' and puttin' in your meddlesome oar?" the Deacon
said, turning to Waitstill. "The girl would never 'a' been there if
you'd attended to your business. She's nothin' but a fool of a young
filly, an' you're an old cart-horse. It was your job to look out for
her as your mother told you to. Anybody might 'a' guessed she needed
watchin'!"

"You shall not call my sister an old cart-horse! I'll not permit it!"
cried Patty, plucking up courage in her sister's defence, and as usual
comporting herself a trifle more like a spitfire than a true heroine of
tragedy.

"Hush, Patty! Let him call me anything that he likes; it makes no
difference at such a time."

"Waitstill knew nothing of my going away till this afternoon," continued
Patty. "I kept it secret from her on purpose, because I was afraid she
would not approve. I went with Mark Wilson, and--and--I married him in
New Hampshire because we couldn't do it at home without every-body's
knowledge. Now you know all."

"Do you mean to tell me you've gone an' married that reckless, wuthless,
horse-trottin', card-playin' sneak of a Wilson boy that's courted every
girl in town? Married the son of a man that has quarrelled with me and
insulted me in public? By the Lord Harry, I'll crack this whip over your
shoulders once before I'm done with you! If I'd used it years ago you
might have been an honest woman to-day, instead of a--"

Foxwell Baxter had wholly lost control of himself, and the temper, that
had never been governed or held in check, lashed itself into a fury that
made him for the moment unaccountable for his words or actions.

Waitstill took a step forward in front of Patty. "Put down that whip,
father, or I'll take it from you and break it across my knee!" Her eyes
blazed and she held her head high. "You've made me do the work of a
man, and, thank God, I've got the muscle of one. Don't lift a finger to
Patty, or I'll defend her, I promise you! The dinner-horn is in the side
entry and two blasts will bring Uncle Bart up the hill, but I'd rather
not call him unless you force me to."

The Deacon's grasp on the whip relaxed, and he fell back a little in
sheer astonishme