"
"Don't know nuthin' about that," reiterated the sheriff, stolidly, "the
warrant has bin sworn out an' it's my duty ter execute it. Constable,
arrest that boy. Ef his foot is too bad hurt to walk, git a rig an' drive
him in ter town."
Hardscrabble, flushed and swollen with importance, stepped forward. He was
about to place his hand on Roy's shoulder, but the boy checked him.
"No need for that. Peggy, if you'll have them get out the auto, we'll
drive into town at once."
Mortlake stepped forward.
"Prescott," he said, "I hope you don't hold this against me. I----."
"I don't wish to speak to you, sir," shot out Roy, for the first time
betraying indignation, "let that be your answer."
"But I--really, I'm sorry to--Bancroft you'll listen----"
But Jimsy turned his back on the flushed, overfed man whose eyes could
not look him in the face.
"In the future please do us the honor not to speak to us," he said, his
voice vibrant with anger.
"Why, if I may ask?"
Jimsy flashed round.
"Because, if you don't pay attention to my request I'm afraid I shall be
unable to curb my desire to land both my fists in your eyes."
Mortlake drew back and turned away among his workmen. He did not speak
again.
Before long the auto came round. In the meantime Peggy had taken upon
herself the task of consoling Miss Prescott.
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