"_My Lady_, as you have apparently forgotten, is the name of Mr. Heath's boat--the boat you yourself helped pull off the shoals."
"My land! So 'tis," faltered Elisha. "I'm almighty sorry, Marcia--I ask your pardon."
"Me, too! We come with the best of intentions--" rejoined Eleazer, fumbling for his cap. "Honest we did."
"It's all right. Just leave us now, please."
As the two men shuffled across the kitchen, a heavy object dropped to the floor, interrupting their jumbled apologies.
"Pick up them handcuffs, 'Lish, an' come along double-quick," Eleazer muttered beneath his breath. "You've made a big enough fool of yourself as 'tis. Don't put your foot in any deeper."
"And here's your hat," added Sylvia, handing the bewildered sheriff his property with an impish bow. "Take it and scram--both of you."
As the door banged behind the discomfited officials, clear as a bell on the quiet air came the twitting voice of Eleazer:
"Wal, Scram got said, didn't it, 'Lish, even if 'twarn't you said it? That gal is an up-to-date little piece. She knows what's what. I told you no shindy of this sort was complete unless somebody said: Scram!"
Left alone, Marcia, weary and spent, collapsed into a chair and closed her eyes, appearing to forget the presence of the girl who, with parted lips, hovered impatiently at her elbow.
Something in the woman's aloofness not only discouraged speech but rendered any interruption an intrusion.
At length, however, she roused herself and sighing deeply looked about, and taking the gesture as permission to break the silence, the torrent of words Sylvia had until now held in check, broke from her:
"Was it true, Marcia--what they said about Uncle Jason I mean? Was it true?"
"But you never told me; and you never told Mother, either. Of course I see why. You didn't want her to know because it would have broken her heart. So you kept it all to yourself. You did not mean I should find it out, did you?"
Sylvia knelt, taking the cold hands in hers.
"I hate him!" cried she fiercely. "I hate him for making you unhappy and spoiling your life!"
"Hush, child. Jason has not spoiled my life," contradicted Marcia with a grave, sad smile.
"But he has scarred it--dashed to pieces all the dreams you started out with--those beautiful dreams a girl has when she is young. I know what they are, for I dream them myself sometimes. They are lovely, delicate things. We never quite expect they will come true; yet for all that we believe in them. I know you had such fancies once, for you are the sort who would. And Jason came and trampled on them--"