"Don't tell me!" exclaimed Francis. "You don't none of you care for her. He only cares because it is his girl an' disgraces _him_. What did he do? Care for her? No, he drove her off. That shows who he's a-carin' for. He ain't sorry because it hurts or murders her. He never tried to make it easy for her an' say he was a lot more to blame an'--an'--a big sight worse every way than she was. He's a-howling now about bein' sorry; but he's only sorry for himself. He'd a let her starve--an' so'd _he_," she said, pointing to her father. She was trembling with rage and excitement. "I hope there is a hell! I jest hope there is! I'll be willin' to go to it myself jest t' see--" The door opened softly and Gertrude entered, and behind her stood Selden Avery. "That kind of girls" floated anew into Francis's brain, and the sting of the words she had heard Gertrude's father utter drove her on. "I wish to God, every man that ever lived could be torn to pieces an'--an' put under Ettie's feet. They wouldn't be fit for her to walk on--none of 'em! She never did no harm on purpose ner when she understood; an' men--men jest love to be mean!" She felt the utter inadequacy of her words, and a great wave of feeling and a sense of baffled resentment swept over her, and she burst into tears. Gertrude tried to draw her out of the room. At the door she sobbed: "Even _her_ father's jest like the rest, only--only he says it easier. He--" "Francis, Francis," said Gertrude, almost sternly, when they were outside the sickroom. "You must not act so. It does no good, and--and you are partly wrong, besides. If--" "I didn't mean _him_," said the girl, with her handkerchief to her eyes. "I didn't mean _him._ I know what he thinks about it. I heard him talk one night at the club. He talked square, an' I reckon he is square. But _I_ wouldn't take no chances. I wouldn't marry the Angel Gabriel an' give him a chance to lord it over me!" Gertrude smiled in spite of herself, and glanced within through the open door. There was a movement towards where the sick girl lay. "If you go in, you must be quiet," she said to Francis, and entered. Ettie had been stirring uneasily. She opened her great blue eyes, and when she saw the faces about her, began to sob aloud. "Don't let pa scold me. I'll do his way. I'll do--anything anybody wants. I like to. The store--" She gave a great shriek of agony. She had tried to move and fell back in a convulsion. She was only partly conscious of her suffering, but the sight was terrible enough to sympathetic hearts, and there was but one pair of dry eyes in the room. The same beady, stern, hard glitter held its place in the eyes of Mr. King. "Serves her right," he was thinking. "And a mighty good lesson. Bringin' disgrace on a good man's name!"