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Updated: May 4, 2025
Cronk stared vacantly. "Nope," he drawled; "I'll stay here in the hut with Midge. It's dark, and she's afraid of ghosts. I'll never steal ag'in, Mister, so I can't get pinched." Vandecar still insisted: "But won't you let your little girl come back and get her clothes? And you, too, can come to our home, for for a visit." His face crimsoned as he prevaricated. But Lon still shook his head.
I couldn't go I'd ruther die, I would! He'd make me go to Lem's scow! Ye can see I can't go, can't you?" She wheeled around and looked at Horace, her eyes filled with a frightened appeal. Shellington's glance was compassionate and tender. "I not only see that you can't go," said he; "but I will see to it that you don't go. Mr. Cronk, I shall have to ask you to leave my house."
Although Lem had not spoken, the young lawyer noted the silent convulsions going on in the dark, full throat, the unceasing movements of the goiter. "State your case to me, then," said he tersely. Lon Cronk settled back and began to speak. "There's a man here in this town by the name of Shellington. He's a lawyer, too, and he's got my kids, and I want 'em. That's my case, Mister."
Ye'll love him, will ye, Lemmy?" "Yep. And now ye take yer cat, Screechy, and get back to bed, and when ye get the boy bring him to the scow." He hesitated a moment; then said, "Ye don't know, do ye, where Flea and Flukey run to?" Scraggy's face dropped. "Be they gone?" she stammered, rising. "Yep, for a long time; and Granny Cronk be dead." "Then ye didn't get Flea, Lem?" "Nope.
He was startled almost out of his boots by the discovery that Dick Cronk was there ahead of him, calmly occupying the easiest chair and reading the evening paper. A skeleton key had provided the means of admission to the room; a brave heart and cunning brain did the rest. Dick's news created great unrest in David's breast.
The man's face was almost purple; the look in his eyes was not of anger, but of a shame that sprung from what little there was of manhood left in him. Braddock looked away quickly, and an instant later announced that it was time to get back to the "lot." In front of the restaurant they came upon Artful Dick Cronk.
She remembered how carefully Ann had instructed her never to mention Lon Cronk or any of the episodes in their early days at Ithaca; but Flukey had never been thus warned. "Mildred, dear," Ann said anxiously, "Floyd and Fledra were unfortunate in losing their mother, and more unfortunate in having a father who doesn't care for them as your father does for you."
Lon Cronk struggled on against the wind to a hut in the rocks, opened the door, and stepped inside. A woman, not unlike him, in spite of added years, rose as he entered. "So ye comed, Lon," she said. "Course! Did Eli get here with the other brat?" "Yep, there 'tis. And he's been squalling for the whole night and day. He wanted the other little 'un, I'm a thinkin'."
Richard Cronk did not have the ghost of a hope to escape the extreme penalty; Ernest would be discharged. There did not seem to be the remotest chance of saving Dick from the gallows. The testimony of the two prisoners would have but little weight with a jury, and there were no extenuating circumstances behind which he could go in support of his plea for leniency.
When she had devoured it Lem spoke: "Now wash it down with this here water and tell me yer tale and if ye lie to me I'll kill ye!" "I ain't a goin' to lie to ye I'll tell ye the truth, I will!" They both drank, the man from the bottle, the woman from a tin cup. Presently she asked: "Be ye goin' to marry Flea Cronk?" "Who's been carryin' tales to ye?" shouted Lem, bounding from his chair.
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