"
He took her hand, put his arm about her waist, but, as he drew her
towards him, with a startled look in her eyes she shrank back saying
hurriedly:
"I guess I won't bother you any more to-night. You've been awfully good
to me. You're tired."
"Not a bit, Mandy, come along," replied Cameron briskly.
At that moment a shadow fell upon the square of moonlight on the floor.
Mandy started back with a cry.
"My! you scairt me. We were--Allan--Mr. Cameron was learnin' me the
Highland schottische." Her face and her voice were full of fear.
It was Perkins. White, silent, and rigid, he stood regarding them, for
minutes, it seemed, then turned away.
"Let's finish," said Cameron quietly.
"Oh! no, no!" said Mandy in a low voice. "He's awful mad! I'm scairt to
death! He'll do something! Oh! dear, dear! He's awful when he gets mad."
"Nonsense!" said Cameron. "He can't hurt you."
"No, but you!"
"Oh, don't worry about me. He won't hurt me."
Cameron's tone arrested the girl's attention.
"But promise me--promise me!" she cried, "that you won't touch him." She
clutched his arm in a fierce grip.
"Certainly I won't touch him," said Cameron easily, "if he behaves
himself." But in his heart he was conscious of a fierce desire that
Perkins would give him the opportunity to wipe out a part at least of
the accumulated burden of insult he had been forced to bear during the
last three weeks.
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