"I will be good to you, Ollie; just as good and kind as I know how to be," he promised.
She swayed a little nearer; her warm, soft body pressed against him, her bright young eyes still striving to draw him down to her lips.
"Oh, Joe, Joe," she murmured in a snuggling, contented way.
Sweat sprang upon his forehead and his throbbing temples, so calm and cool but a moment before. He stood trembling, his damp elf-locks dangling over his brow. Through the half-open door a little breath of wind threaded in and made the lamp-blaze jump; it rustled outside through the lilac-bushes like the passing of a lady's gown.
Joe's voice was husky in his throat when he spoke.
"You'd better go to bed, Ollie," said he.
He still clung foolishly to her willing hand as he led her to the door opening to the stairs.
"No, you go on up first, Joe," she said. "I want to put the wood in the stove ready to light in the morning, and set a few little things out. It'll give me a minute longer to sleep. You can trust me now, Joe," she protested, looking earnestly into his eyes, "for I'm not going away with Morgan now."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Ollie," he told her, unfeigned pleasure in his voice.
"I want you to promise me you'll never tell Isom," said she.
"I never intended to tell him," he replied.
She withdrew her hand from his quickly, and quickly both of them fled to his shoulders.
"Stoop down," she coaxed with a seductive, tender pressure of her hands, "and tell me, Joe."
Isom's step fell on the porch. He crashed the door back against the wall as he came in, and Joe and Ollie fell apart in guilty haste. Isom stood for a moment on the threshold, amazement in his staring eyes and open mouth. Then a cloud of rage swept him, he lifted his huge, hairy fist above his head like a club.
"I'll kill you!" he threatened, covering the space between him and Joe in two long strides.
Ollie shrank away, half stooping, from the expected blow, her hands raised in appealing defense. Joe put up his open hand as if to check Isom in his assault.
"Hold on, Isom; don't you hit me," he said.
Whatever Isom's intention had been, he contained himself. He stopped, facing Joe, who did not yield an inch.
"Hit you, you whelp!" said Isom, his lips flattened back from his teeth. "I'll do more than hit you. You--" He turned on Ollie: "I saw you. You've disgraced me! I'll break every bone in your body! I'll throw you to the hogs!"