She stood
irresolute. The voice of Deacon Strong answered for her.
"So! You're HERE, are you?"
"Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here," answered the pastor, as he turned
to meet the accusing eyes of the deacon, who had come quickly
from behind the dressing tent.
"As for you, miss," continued Strong, with an insolent nod toward
Polly, "I might have known how you'd keep your part of the
bargain."
"Bargain?" echoed Douglas. "What bargain?"
"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't mean to see him, I
didn't, truly." She hardly knew what she was saying.
"What bargain?" demanded Douglas sternly.
"She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each
other agin," roared Strong. "If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to
keep on with this kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so
easy."
"So! That's it!" cried Douglas. It was all clear to him now. He
recalled everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her
tears. "It was you who drove that child back to this." He
glanced at Polly. The narrow shoulders were bent forward. The
nervous little fingers were clasping and unclasping each other.
Never before had she seemed so small and helpless.
"Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!"
"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
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