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Then, too, by Farwell's advice, old Jerry was growing rigid along financial lines, and at last the States took definite shape in Jerry-Jo's mind, but he meant to have Priscilla before he heeded the lure. With all his brazen conceit and daring he intuitively knew that the girl had never thought of him as he thought of her, and he dared not awaken her by legitimate means.
All that dancing and fiddle-scraping at Master Farwell's is not to my liking. The goings-on are evil-looking to my mind. The girl always was a parcel of whim-whams made up of odds and ends, as it was, of her fore-runners. What all the children of the Glenns might have been Priscilla is!" "So Jerry-Jo's fixed his bold eyes on the girl?" asked Mary McAdam. "It bodes no good for her.
"Thank you, Jerry-Jo," the voice faltered; "but I wish it had the tear spot." "That was his book; this is yours." An angry light flashed in Jerry-Jo's eyes. He had arranged this surprise with great pains and had used all his savings. "But it cannot be the same, Jerry-Jo. Thank you but " "Give us another kiss?" The young fellow begged. Priscilla drew back and held out the book. "No."
Her happy, light-hearted mood was past; she felt unaccountably gloomy, and as she walked on she sought to explain herself to herself, and presently Jerry-Jo came into focus and would not stir from her contemplation. Yes, it was Jerry-Jo's personality that disturbed her, and it was Farwell's words that had torn the shield she herself had erected, and set the truth free.
Jerry-Jo's eyes were taking in the loveliness of the raised face as the setting sun fell upon it. "Yes, I do want to! I'll go, Jerry-Jo." Then McAlpin came close to her and said in a low voice: "Priscilla, give us a kiss for pay."
The moments passed slowly, but presently, with the knowledge that day lay beyond her prison, she gained a new, a more desperate courage. If she must die, she would die in the open, where she at least might test her pitiful strength against Jerry-Jo's did he pursue her. The determination to act gave relief.
"My my father will kill you when he knows of this night!" Priscilla flung the words back savagely. She knew now that she was free free for what? Again Jerry-Jo's laugh taunted her, and as she turned to the path her father faded from her hope. Only Anton Farwell seemed to loom high. Just and resourceful, he would help her!
McAdam, took note of Jerry-Jo's appearance, and, on a certain afternoon in midwinter, when she, Long Jean, and Mary McAdam sat by the range in the White Fish kitchen, fanned a lively bit of gossip into flame. "Trade's a bit poor these days, eh, Jean?" Jean grunted over her cup of green tea. "Not so many children born as once was, eh? What you make of it, Jean the woman getting heady or which?"
"But Jerry-Jo you said he that boy was a poor, twisted thing, ugly past all belief, while he who played and laughed that day was like an angel of light just showing me the way to heaven!" And now Jerry-Jo's dark face was not pleasant to look upon. "Can't a twisted thing become straight?" he muttered; "can't a devil trap himself out like an an angel?" "Oh!
Priscilla melted at once and fear fled. Not for an instant did she connect this handsome fellow with the crooked wrongdoer of the Hill Place. Jerry-Jo's long-ago description had been too vivid to be forgotten, and this stranger was one to charm and win confidence. "Will you oh! please do let me play for you? You dance like a nymph. Do you know what a nymph is?" Priscilla shook her head.
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