Everett Brimbecomb had become impatient. He missed his evenings with
Ann, and was tortured with the thought that Horace was with Fledra.
Every day made his hatred for his former friend more deadly, more
vindictive, and he not only desired to take the squatter girl away, but
he felt impelled to separate Ann from her brother. He received a badly
spelled note from Lon with a feeling of thanksgiving. Something had
happened to make the squatter wish to see him. So, after dinner, he took
the direction Lon had given, and reached the scow in a heavy rain. It
was much more to his liking that the evening should be stormy; for no
person of his own station in life would be apt to be abroad on such a
night.
As he entered the living-room of the scow, Everett bowed frigidly to Lem
Crabbe, and forgot to extend his hand to Lon.
"You sent for me," he said in a low tone, looking at the squatter.
"Yep. I knowed ye wanted to see Lem, and I thought as how ye'd ruther
come here than have him come along to yer office. Ain't that right?"
"I believe I told you so," responded Everett coldly, as he took his
place in a rickety chair.
"Ye said, didn't ye, Mister, that ye wanted the handlin' of Flea after
we took her away from that meddlin' millionaire?"
"Yes."
"And I telled ye that ye had to make a bargain with Lem, 'cause he had
first right to her. What ye willin' to give?"
"How much money do you want to withdraw your claim from the girl?"
"I ain't thought 'bout no price," replied Lem covertly.
"Then think and listen to me. I have an idea in my mind that we can take
the girl away from that house, if not tomorrow, at least in a few days."
Lem's eyes glistened, and Lon placed his clay pipe carefully upon the
table.
"Lip it out, then, Mister," said the latter; "and, if me and Lem's
agreein' with ye, then we'll help ye."
Everett moved uneasily in the creaking chair. He did not desire to
dicker with these ruffians; but it was necessary, if he wished to carry
out his plans concerning Fledra.
"The boy is likely to die any moment. The girl is the only one who can
help you, Mr. Cronk." Everett had meaning in his voice, and his words
made Lem swallow hard.
"I was a thinkin' that myself," ruminated Lon.
"The girl idolizes her brother and Mr. Shellington. If you could make
her understand that they would otherwise both be killed through your
instrumentality, she would leave the house of her own free will, I'm
sure."
Lon, grimacing with delight, bounded up and faced Lem.
"That be so! That comes of gittin' a lawyer what's got stuff in his
head, ye see, Lem. I told ye that when ye said as how we could get them
kids without spendin' no money."
"You will have to use great care, both of you," Everett urged, "and it
only means for you to take the girl, as you first planned, to Ithaca;
and I will come after her. You will both have your money, and our
business together will be at an end." Lem laughed, but with no sound.
"Just how to get this girl is more than I have figured out," Everett
continued; "but it might be well for me to try and get a letter to her.
I have been a steady visitor at Shellington's home for many years. We
are hardly upon good terms now; but I could manage it, if one of you men
would write it. Make the letter strong, and you will gain your ends. You
may bring it to my office tomorrow, Mr. Cronk." He rose, buttoned up his
raincoat, and went out, leaving two gaping men looking after him.
* * * * *
Since the papers had been served upon him, Horace had had no peace of
mind. The solemn deputy loitering about the home menaced the whole
future. It sickened him when he forced his imagination to dwell upon
Fledra's future, if she were dragged back to Ithaca, and he had rather
place Floyd in his grave than give him into the hands of the squatter.
Suddenly, one morning, he took a great resolution, and no sooner had he
made up his mind to take the one step that would change his whole life
than he called Ann to tell her about it.
"I'm going to marry Fledra," he said, catching his breath.
Ann dropped her hands fearfully; but intense interest gathered on her
face.
"I can save her no other way," he went on, almost in excuse, noting her
glance. "And you must have seen, Ann, dear, that I love the child. Sit
down here and let me tell you about it."
He began at the beginning, telling her of his early growing love, of his
desire to make the squatter child his wife. Ann allowed him to narrate
his story impulsively, without interruption.
Then she said gently:
"Horace, dear, have you told her that you love her?"
"Yes; but I am going to tell her again this morning."
"Ask her now," suggested Ann eagerly, and she rose.
Horace found Fledra with Floyd, and she lifted her eyes confidingly to
his with a smile. For a long time he had been so tender, so loving, that
the specter bred and fostered by Everett Brimbecomb's kisses had nearly
vanished.
"Floyd is so much better this morning!" she said. Her words were well
chosen, and she pronounced her brother's new name carefully.
Floyd held out his hand and raised himself slowly up.
"Look, Brother Horace!" he cried eagerly. "Look--just this morning I've
been able to stand up! Sister Ann says in a few days I can walk."
Horace held the thin, white fingers in his for an instant.
"So you will, boy. It won't be long before you can get out."
The words startled Fledra. Not until the trouble of Lon's coming had she
wished that Floyd might linger in the sickroom. The man outside,
watching every movement in the house, frightened her. She knew that when
her brother was well enough he and she would be called away for the
court's decision as to their future.
"Floyd, will you spare your sister just a few moments? I want to talk
with her."
"Course I will, Brother Horace. Scoot along, Fledra!"
"This way, child," whispered Horace. "I've something--oh, such a dear
something!--to say to you."
They quietly passed the deputy, who only raised his eyes, smiled at
Fledra, and dropped his gaze again to his paper. When Horace's door was
closed, Horace took Fledra into his embrace and kissed her again and
again. She loved the warmth of his arms, and the delight of his kisses
caused her to rest unresisting until he chose to speak.
"Fledra, dear, will you marry me--immediately?"
His question brought her to rigidity.
"You mean--"
"I mean that all our troubles are going away."
Fledra drew slowly from him.
"How can our troubles go away?" she asked.
"By your consenting."
"I told you once, and more than once, that I couldn't tell you. Won't
you ever understand?"
But Horace did not loosen his hold upon her. He drew the dark head
against him tenderly.
"You misunderstood, Fledra. I am going to trust you in everything. I am
going to put all my faith in you, and to save you and your brother from
a fearful life. I must make you my wife!"
Fledra drew a long breath. All the stumbling petitions she had made to
Heaven were answered by those few words. At last, to be Horace's wife,
to save Flukey, and to protect Ann, who would now have back her lover!
It seemed to the young girl, in this flashing moment of thought, that
all the clouds of the last few months had floated over their heads and
away.
"It will take a few days before I can arrange our marriage," explained
Horace. "One reason for not arranging today is that I have to run down
to New York for two or three days; and then, too, I must be careful not
to let anyone know of our plans. I want you to talk with my sister. I
have told her that I love you."
"Was she sorry?" whispered Fledra.
"No--very, very glad!"
"And can I tell Floyd?"
"Yes, just as soon as you like. I have an idea your happiness will go
far to make him well."
* * * * *
For an hour Horace refused to let her leave him, and when Fledra did go
back to the sick brother her face was radiant with happiness. Floyd was
not prepared for the rush of words or the passionate appeal with which
she met him.
Blinking his eyes, the boy waved his sister back.
"I can't make out what you're saying, Flea."
"I'm going to marry Brother Horace!" She stopped, and began again. "I'm
going to marry Horace--oh, so soon, Fluke! And aren't you glad? And then
they can't take us away!"
It was the first intimation Floyd had had of their danger. He rose up,
standing upon his legs tremblingly.
"Has anybody been trying to take us away, Flea?"
Then Fledra realized what she had said, and hesitated in fear.
"I forgot, you weren't to know, Fluke. Will you wait till I call Brother
Horace?... Fluke, don't be trembling like that! Sit down, Fluke!...
Fluke!"
Floyd's face had paled, even to the tips of his ears. He realized now
that danger had hung over the fair young sister and he had not known of
it.
"It's Pappy Lon, and ye never told me, Flea, and that's why ye been so
unhappy! He'll take ye away because yer his kid, and Brother Horace
can't do anything."
"Yes, he can, Fluke--yes, he can! He loves me, and I love him, and he's
going to marry me! Nobody can't take a wife away from her man!... Fluke,
don't wabble like that! Brother Horace! Brother Horace!"
Fledra's voice reached the dreaming man, bending over his desk, and he
bounded to answer her call. He found her supporting her brother, white
and shivering, with eyes strained by fright.
"I told him," gasped Fledra looking up; "but I didn't mean to."
"Told him what?"
"Pappy Lon," muttered Floyd, "comin' for Flea!"
Horace caught the words in dismay.
He placed the suffering boy on the divan and bent close. In low tones
he said that the squatter in some mysterious way had found where they
were, and that he had come for them. He began at the beginning,
explaining to the boy Lon's demand upon him. He refrained, however, from
mentioning Everett, because of the pain to his sister. He had just
finished the story, when Ann softly opened the door and came in.
"But I insist that you will place your faith in me, Floyd. I shall see
to it that neither you nor your sister leave me--unless you go of your
own free will," Horace concluded.
"If Pappy Lon takes one of us," muttered Floyd, as Miss Shellington
calmed him with sweet interest, "let him take me. I'm as good as dead,
anyhow. I want Flea to marry Brother Horace."
"And so she will," assured Ann. "Now then, Dear, try and sleep."
During the rest of the afternoon Ann held conferences with her brother,
fluttering back and forth from him to Floyd, and then to Fledra. She
noted that the strained expression had gone from the girl's face, and
uttered a little prayer of thanksgiving when she heard Horace's hearty
laugh ring out once more.