"You'd ought to be ashamed of yourself," she stormed, in a frenzy of indignation. "And there was somebody looking at you all the time. What do you suppose He thought?" "What's that? Who saw anything?" exclaimed Grimes quickly. He raised his head and looked suspiciously about. "Never you mind. He's gone now. He'll fix you some day." Mollie could be a little spitfire when she chose. Her large eyes, blazing now from out her pale, oval face gave her a weird, elfin expression that had its effect upon the uncouth and less intelligent creature she dared to arraign. She was only repeating words she had heard many times in the kitchen of old Lucy, her mother's cook, but for Grimes they now had but one significance. Someone, Bailey, probably, had been spying upon him from the other side of the gate shutting off the farm from the narrow road leading to the main highway. He muttered an oath. "Aw, I was only a-jokin'," he exclaimed in a loud tone. "I'll larn yo' young-uns that when I say a thing I mean hit an' I doan want none o' yer back clack. Ef I feel fer ter drown a sick shote I'm a-goin' ter do hit an' ther hain't a-goin' ter be no argymint. Anybody thet tries hit'll git a taste o' th' same med'cine." With a sweeping blow of his huge hand he hurled Mollie to one side and in his habitual writhing, dragging manner, moved ominously off toward the house. Mollie, too dazed by the suddenness of the blow to cry out, watched him go. The stimulus of excitement was still upon her. On the heap of decaying vegetation near by Stephen stirred slightly. A sound that was half sob, half moan, escaped him. Instantly Mollie was at his side, pulling at his arms, trying with all her puny strength to lift him to a sitting posture, beseeching him to open his eyes. "Splutters--Splutters, wake up," she implored, an hysterical note beginning to tincture the clear, childish treble of her voice. "It's all right, Stevie. The ogre's gone. He won't hurt you. God got around just in time. He scared him away. Stevie--Stevie, don't you hear me?" Stephen heard, but the comforting little voice seemed faint and far away. It was musical, though, and pleasant to listen to. Somebody did care for him, after all. He wasn't alone and forgotten, and going to be killed--like a pig. That had all been a terrible dream. The realization brought a sense of comfort. With a long, tremulous sigh the lad opened his eyes, blue as violets, and looked about him. His range of vision was obscured by Mollie's little face. She was bending solicitously over him. He tried to smile but there was that in Mollie's appearance which stayed him in the effort. She was pale as death. There was a wild, startled look in her eyes. Her lips were quivering. "Oh, Splutters!" she gasped, and began to sob.