Part 7 (1/2)

So well did Flea realize the powerlessness of the rigid boy at her side to help her, that she dropped his hand and alone went nearer to the thief.

”Can't I stay with you and with Granny Cronk for another year? Can't I stay? Can't I, Pappy Lon?”

”Nope, I wouldn't keep ye in the shanty if ye had money for yer keeps.

Ye go on a Sat.u.r.day to Lem's boat to be his woman, ye see?”

The iron hook by this time was hanging loosely by Lem's side; but a cruel expression had gathered on the sullen face. A frown drew the crafty eyes together, bespeaking wrath at the girl's words.

That he would have her at the bidding of her father, Lem never doubted.

During the last three years he had been resolved to take her home in due time to be his woman. To subdue the proud young spirit, to make her the mother of children like himself,--the boys destined to be thieves, and the girls squatter women,--was his one ambition. That he was old enough to be her father made no difference to him.

He was watching her as she stood in the darkening twilight, gloating over the thought that his vicious dreams were so near their fulfilment.

Flea was looking into the eyes of her father, and he looked back at her with an impudent smile.

”Ye don't like the thought of this comin' Sat.u.r.day, Flea--eh?” he asked slowly. ”But, as I said before, a gal hain't nothin' to do with the notions of her daddy. And Granny Cronk'll give ye a pork cake to take to Lem's, and he'll let ye eat it all to yerself. Eh, Lem?”

”Yep,” grunted Lem. ”She eats the pork cake if she will; but after that--”

Suddenly Lon silenced Lem's words with a wag of his head toward the girl. ”Flea,” he said, ”I telled Lem as how ye'd kiss him tonight.”

The words stunned the girl, they were so unexpected, so terrible. She turned her eyes upon Lem and fearfully studied his face. He was gazing back, his open lips showing his discolored, broken teeth. The coa.r.s.e, red hair sprinkled with gray gave a fierce aspect to his whole appearance, and from the emotion through which he was pa.s.sing the muscles under his chin worked to and fro. With a grin he advanced toward her. Flea fell back against Flukey. The boy steadied the trembling, slender body.

”I ain't a goin' to kiss ye,” she muttered. ”I hate yer kisses! I hate 'em!”

”Ye'll kiss him, jest the same!” ordered Lon.

Closer and closer Lem came toward the girl; then suddenly he sprang at her like a tiger, crus.h.i.+ng the slim figure against his breast. For a moment Flea was encircled by his left arm. Then she turned fiercely to the ugly face so close to hers, and in another instant had bitten it through the cheek. He dropped her with a yelling oath, and Flea sprang back, turning flas.h.i.+ng eyes upon Lon.

”That's how I kiss him afore I go to him,” she screamed, ”and worser and worser after he takes me!”

Lon laughed wickedly. He had not expected such a display of spirit. ”I guess ye'll have to wait, Lem,” he said; ”fer--”

Flea did not hear the rest of the sentence; for she and Flukey were hurrying toward the hut.

Lem stood wiping the blood from his face. ”The cussed spit-cat!” he hissed. ”When I take her in hand--”

”When ye take her in hand, Lem,” interrupted Lon darkly, ”ye can do what ye like. Break her spirit! Break her neck, if ye want to! I don't care.”

The children found Granny Cronk with bent shoulders and palsied hands toiling over the supper. About the withered neck hung a red handkerchief, and on top of the few gray whisps of hair rested a spotless cap. She grunted as the children entered the room like a whirlwind and climbed the long ladder to the loft, where for some time the low voice of Flukey and the sobs of Flea could be heard in the kitchen below.

It was not until her son had entered and hung his cap upon the peg that the old woman ventured to speak.

”Be Flea in a tantrum, Lon?”

”Yep, ye bet she be!”

”Have ye been a beatin' her?”