A LITTLE SCRAPPER.
“Oh, you dear little brother, you dear darling child,” almost sobbed
Addie as she seized Glen Irving in her arms and began to shower kisses
on his unwilling face.
The boy shrunk away, or into as small a compass as he was able, to
escape from the “affectionate attack.” Plainly it was anything but
pleasing to him.
The “attack,” however, did not cease in response to his protest. Addie
held onto her captive with all her strength, at the same time attempting
to soothe his wrath or fear, or both, with as many kisses as she could
force in between the boy’s belligerent arms. Glen, conscious of the
presence of friends who, he believed, would go to any extreme to assist
him, fought as he had never fought before, desperately, viciously. He
used his fists and fingernails to good purpose and pulled Addie’s hair
until it presented a ludicrous appearance of disarrangement.
Realizing that the boy’s actions might prove harmful to his cause if
this affair should ever be contested in the courts, Miss Ladd decided to
take a hand and do what she could to pacify the young heir who had
suddenly been transformed into a veritable wildcat. She had no doubt
that there was good cause in his past experience for the development of
such character in him, but expediency demanded that it be checked at
once.
“Here, let me take him,” Miss Ladd urged as she laid her hands on his
shoulders and attempted to draw him away. A few gentle words and an
exhibition of a kind persuasiveness of manner brought success. She drew
the lad back some distance and tried to reason with him, whereupon he
burst into convulsive sobbing.
His sobs were not a new expression of an outburst of passion. Miss Ladd
was certain of this. Little Glen was weeping not because anger “opened
the floodgates of his soul,” but because of some picture of dread in his
past experience which he feared would be repeated in the future.
But Addie Graham was not equal to the occasion. The veneer of gentleness
that she had put on could not withstand the deep-seated spitefulness of
her nature, and as she observed a severe scratch on one hand and felt
the disarrangement of her hair, she yielded impulsively to vengefulness
of spirit that was boiling within her and exclaimed:
“The miserable little pest! Just wait till I get you home, Glen Graham,
and I’ll——”
She stopped right there, much to the disappointment of the eagerly
listening Camp Fire Girls who fully expected her to open an avenue to
the very evidence for which they were looking.
“Why!” she continued, with a desperate effort to control her temper. “I
never knew him to act that way before. He’s usually such a—such a—sweet
dispositioned little dear. I don’t know what to make of it. He took me
completely by surprise. I don’t understand it—I don’t know what to make
of it—I can’t understand the little—the little—d-dear.”
“It is strange, very strange,” Miss Ladd agreed, purposing, for policy’s
sake, to help the girl out of her predicament.
“Come to sister, Glennie dear,” Addie continued, after she had succeeded
in rearranging her hair and restoring her hat to its normal position on
her head. “Don’t you know sister loves you just lots? Why did you run
away? Come back home and sister will give you some candy, just lots of
it. Come on, now, that’s a good little boy.”
“I don’t want your candy and you ain’t my sister, and I won’t go back.
You’ll beat me, and mom’ll beat me and everybody else’ll beat me. Don’t
let her take me back, please don’t,” Glen concluded, turning his face
pleadingly toward Miss Ladd.
“Oh, you must go back, Glen,” the Guardian replied, reproachfully.
“That’s your home, don’t you know? Where in the world will you go if you
don’t go back home? Think of it—no place in the world to go, no place in
the world.”
There was a tone of awe in the young woman’s voice that impressed the
boy. He cooled down considerably and looked meditatively at his monitor.
“They’ll beat me,” he protested earnestly. “They’ll tie me to a bed post
and strap me.”
“Why, how perfectly terrible!” Addie exclaimed. “I never heard of such a
thing. I can’t understand such remarks.”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Katherine suggested reassuringly. “We’ll
all go back to the house with you and fix everything up nice. They won’t
beat you, I’m sure. Come on, Miss Graham, we’ll help you, if you don’t
think we’re intruding.”
Addie did not know how to reply and did not attempt to. She started
toward home and the Camp Fire Girls followed her, Miss Ladd leading the
battling runaway by the hand.
Glen was considerably bewildered and apparently submissive during the
journey homeward. He said little, and when he spoke, it was only a short
reply to something said to him.
At the door of the cottage, they were met by Mrs. Graham, to whom Addie
introduced them. None of the girls were well impressed by the woman’s
appearance or manner. She affected the same ungenuine interest and
affection for Glen that had characterized Addie’s manner toward him. But
they managed to bring about a condition more or less reassuring to the
boy and left him, with secret misgivings, in the custody of the family
which they held more than ever under suspicion.
“We’ve got to do some real spy work now,” said Miss Ladd after they had
reached their camp again. “We’ve got to find out what is going on in
that house when those people have no suspicion that they are being
watched.”
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