The Fourth Watch Part 8

"Curse you!" snarled the defeated man. "Ye'll pay fer this!"

"We'll see about that later," calmly replied the clerk. "There's to be no more bullying while I'm here, and I won't be here long, for I'm done with you and your outfit."

"Go, go at once, d--n you, or I'll kick ye out!" shouted Farrington.

"Kick me out, if you can," came the reply. "Get up and do it," and the young man laughed scornfully. "No, you know you can't. Now, look here; just a word before we part. I've stood your insolent abuse for a week, without retaliating. But when you laid hands upon that boy it was a different matter."

"But he flew at me like a wild-cat," Farrington growled.

"Yes, and wouldn't anyone with a spark of life in him at all, after he had been insulted by such a thing as you. You like to get a chap such as that in your claws and torture him. You've done it before, I understand. But it's not been such fun this time. No, no, the worm has turned at last. I'm going now--so do what you like. I've no fear of such a thing as you."

He turned, put on his heavy coat and left the building. As he did so Dan slipped out ahead of him, and started up the road as fast as his little feet would carry him.

Chapter VIII

The Golden Key

"Why, Dan, what's the matter?"

Nellie was sitting before the open fire busily engaged with her needle as the lad entered the room. He stared at her for an instant, and then a sheepish grin crossed his face. His clothes were torn, and his hair tossed in the wildest confusion, while marks of blood spotted his cheeks.

"What in the world have you been doing?" Nellie insisted.

"Nuthin' much," came the slow reply,

"Well, you don't look like it. Have you been fighting?"

"Y'bet!" and Dan smacked his lips. "I swatted him good and hard, that's what I did."

"Did what?"

"Swatted him--punched his face, and dug out some of his hair."

"Punched his face and dug out his hair!" Nellie exclaimed. "I don't understand. Sit down, and tell me about it."

Perched upon a chair Dan gave a brief though vivid description of the scene in the store, to which Nellie listened with almost breathless interest.

"And did he say that father took old Billy's gold?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

"Sure's I'm livin'. He said it, and he called him a rogue and me a--a--bad name!" Dan was about to tell what that name was, but the word stuck in his throat, and he found it impossible to bring it forth. "Sucker and sponger!" how those words stung him. How contemptuously his father had always spoken of such people. They rankled in his heart as he sped up the road. A squirrel in an old fir-tree had shouted them at him, while a forlorn crow soaring overhead had looked down and given its hoa.r.s.e croak of contempt. He was a sucker--a sponger! living upon others! What was he doing to earn his living? Nothing. What would his father think were he alive?

"Dan, I'm sorry you did that," and as Nellie looked into those big brown eyes a deep love for this little lad welled up in her heart.

"Why. I thought you'd be glad," came the astonished reply. "If anybody called my dad bad names when he was alive I'd been glad if someone swatted him."

Nellie remained silent for a while, steadily working away at her sewing.

"Dan," she said at length, "I want you to promise me something, will you?"

"Y'bet. What is it?"

"I want you to promise that you will say nothing about this to my father."

"Why? Wouldn't he like to know how I punched that man?"

"No, no. And besides I don't want him to know what has been said about him. It's a cruel lie, and if father hears of it, it will worry him so much. Will you keep the secret with me?"

"Yes, if you want me to. I'll not say a word, but, oh, I think Parson John would like to know how I punched him," and Dan gave a deep sigh at the thought of losing such pleasure.

"Thank you," Nellie replied. "I know I can trust you. Run away now, change your clothes, and wash your face; then get the wood in, before father comes home."

Long and silently Nellie remained before the fire with her hands resting upon her lap. Her brain was in a tumult, and her heart ached. What else was being said about her father? To whom should she go for information?

She thought of Mrs. Larkins, but then she was over at the Hall getting ready for a church sale to be given that very evening by the Ladies' Aid Society. Stephen was coming for her early, as she was to have charge of one of the fancy booths. Afterwards there was to be a quiet dance by the young people, and she had promised Stephen that she would stay for a while, and have her first dance with him.

At length she aroused from her reverie and prepared her father's supper.

How weary he looked, she thought, as she sat and watched him, and listened to his casual talk about his afternoon visit and the auction in the morning. A feeling of resentment filled her heart as she recalled what Farrington had said. To think that he should say such things about her father, who was always so patient and loving; who was ever trying to help others, no matter who they were. Tears came to her eyes at the thought.

Suddenly she rose, and going to where her father was sitting put her arms around him, and gave him a loving kiss.

"Ho, ho!" came the delighted exclamation. "What ails my little girl to-night? What does she want now?"

"I want you, daddy," she replied. "I want to love you more, and be more help to you."

"Help me more! What could you do more than you do now? There, run away and get ready. I hear bells; Stephen must be coming, and I'm afraid you'll be late. Dan and I will look after the dishes."

That evening in the church hall, when the sale had ended, the fiddler tuned up his instrument, and several made ready for the dance. It was truly a pleasant sight which met the eyes of a number of the older ones as they sat back near the wall. Grouped around the large room the flower and strength of the neighbourhood chatted with one another, while waiting for the dance to begin. They seemed like one large family, these youths and maidens, who had known one another from childhood. Bright and happy were their faces, glowing with health, and the active exercise of daily life.

Somewhat apart from the rest stood Nellie Westmore, engaged in earnest conversation with Vivien Nelson. Presently the former turned partly around and her eyes rested upon Mrs. Larkins sitting quietly in one corner of the room. A bright smile illumined her face as she crossed over and sat down by her side.

"I am glad you stayed, Mrs. Larkins," she began. "I did not think you would care to remain."

"I like to see the young people enjoying themselves," Mrs. Larkins replied, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time, Nellie."

"I generally do," came the slow response; "but to-night my conscience troubles me."

"And in what way?"

"Oh, about my father."

"Why, is he sick?"

"No, not that. He is troubled somewhat in his mind, and I feel I should have stayed at home to cheer him up. I know he needs me to-night, and it was just his love which made him forget himself. He is always like that; thinking about others all the time."

"Don't worry, Nellie. Your father will have his books to occupy his mind."