Mavis had not gone to see Marjorie--she had sneaked away to meet Gray;
his lips curled contemptuously--Mavis was a sneak, and so was Gray
Pendleton. Then a thought struck him--why was Mavis behaving like a
brush-girl this way, and why didn't Gray go to see her in her own home,
open and above-board, like a man? The curl of the boy's lips settled
into a straight, grim line, and once more he turned slowly down the
stream that he might approach Steve's house from another direction.
Half an hour later, when he climbed the turnpike fence, he heard the
gallop of iron-shod feet and he saw bearing down on him an iron-gray
horse. It was Marjorie. He knew her from afar; he gripped the rail
beneath him with both hands and his heart seemed almost to stop. She
was looking him full in the face now, and then, with a nod and a smile
she would have given a beggar or a tramp, she swept him by.
XVII
There was little about Jason and his school career that John Burnham
had not heard from his friend St. Hilda, for she kept sending at
intervals reports of him, so that Burnham knew how doggedly the lad had
worked in school and out; what a leader he was among his fellows, and
how, that he might keep out of the feud, he had never gone to his
grandfather's even during vacations, except for a day or two, but had
hired himself out to some mountain farmer and had toiled like a slave,
always within St. Hilda's reach. She had won Jason's heart from the
start, so that he had told her frankly about his father's death, the
coming of the geologist, the sale of his home, the flight of his mother
and Steve Hawn, his shooting at Babe Honeycutt, and his own flight
after them, but at the brink of one confession he always balked. Never
could St. Hilda learn just why he had given up the manly prerogatives
of pistol, whiskey-jug, and a deadly purpose of revenge, to accept in
their place, if need be, the despised duties of women-folks. But his
grim and ready willingness for the exchange appealed to St. Hilda so
strongly that she had always saved him as much of these duties as she
could.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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