Part 18 (1/2)

She swayed a little nearer; her warm, soft body pressed against him, her bright young eyes still striving to draw him down to her lips.

”Oh, Joe, Joe,” she murmured in a snuggling, contented way.

Sweat sprang upon his forehead and his throbbing temples, so calm and cool but a moment before. He stood trembling, his damp elf-locks dangling over his brow. Through the half-open door a little breath of wind threaded in and made the lamp-blaze jump; it rustled outside through the lilac-bushes like the pa.s.sing of a lady's gown.

Joe's voice was husky in his throat when he spoke.

”You'd better go to bed, Ollie,” said he.

He still clung foolishly to her willing hand as he led her to the door opening to the stairs.

”No, you go on up first, Joe,” she said. ”I want to put the wood in the stove ready to light in the morning, and set a few little things out.

It'll give me a minute longer to sleep. You can trust me now, Joe,” she protested, looking earnestly into his eyes, ”for I'm not going away with Morgan now.”

”I'm glad to hear you say that, Ollie,” he told her, unfeigned pleasure in his voice.

”I want you to promise me you'll never tell Isom,” said she.

”I never intended to tell him,” he replied.

She withdrew her hand from his quickly, and quickly both of them fled to his shoulders.

”Stoop down,” she coaxed with a seductive, tender pressure of her hands, ”and tell me, Joe.”

Isom's step fell on the porch. He crashed the door back against the wall as he came in, and Joe and Ollie fell apart in guilty haste. Isom stood for a moment on the threshold, amazement in his staring eyes and open mouth. Then a cloud of rage swept him, he lifted his huge, hairy fist above his head like a club.

”I'll kill you!” he threatened, covering the s.p.a.ce between him and Joe in two long strides.

Ollie shrank away, half stooping, from the expected blow, her hands raised in appealing defense. Joe put up his open hand as if to check Isom in his a.s.sault.

”Hold on, Isom; don't you hit me,” he said.

Whatever Isom's intention had been, he contained himself. He stopped, facing Joe, who did not yield an inch.

”Hit you, you whelp!” said Isom, his lips flattened back from his teeth.

”I'll do more than hit you. You--” He turned on Ollie: ”I saw you.

You've disgraced me! I'll break every bone in your body! I'll throw you to the hogs!”

”If you'll hold on a minute and listen to reason, Isom, you'll find there's nothing at all like you think there is,” said Joe. ”You're making a mistake that you may be sorry for.”

”Mistake!” repeated Isom bitterly, as if his quick-rising rage had sunk again and left him suddenly weak. ”Yes, the mistake I made was when I took you in to save you from the poorhouse and give you a home. I go away for a day and come back to find you two clamped in each other's arms so close together I couldn't shove a hand between you.

Mistake----”

”That's not so, Isom,” Joe protested indignantly.

”Heaven and h.e.l.l, didn't I see you!” roared Isom. ”There's law for you two if I want to take it on you, but what's the punishment of the law for what you've done on me? Law! No, by G.o.d! I'll make my own law for this case. I'll kill both of you if I'm spared to draw breath five minutes more!”