Both of ye air too
high-heeled fer us folks. Y'u hev got mighty good now that ye air a
preacher," he added, with a drunken sneer, irritated beyond
endurance by Raines's silence and his steady look. "I want ye to
know Bill Hicks air a-runnin' things here, 'n' I don't want no
meddlin'. I'll drink right here in front o' ye "-holding a bottle
defiantly above his head-" 'n' I mean to dance, too, I warn ye now,"
he added, staggering toward the door, "I don't want no med-dlin'."
Easter had buried her face in her hands. Her mother stood near her
husband, helplessly trying to get him away, and fearing to arouse
him more. Raines was the most composed man in the room, and a
few moments later, when dancing was resumed, Clayton heard his
voice at his ear:
"You'd better go upstairs 'n' wait till it's time to go," he said. " He
hev got roused ag'in ye, and ag'in me too. I'll keep out o' his way so
as not to aggravate him, but I'll stay hyar fer fear something will
happen. Mebbe he'll sober up a little, but I'm afeard he'll drink
more'n ever."
A moment later, unseen by the rest, the two mounted the stairway
to the little room where Easter's girlhood had been passed. To
Clayton the peace of the primitive little chamber was an infinite
relief. A dim light showed a rude bed in one corner and a pine
table close by, whereon lay a few books and a pen and an
ink-bottle.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105