till
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 superstitious 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 attitude 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.