"He—accepted it." For some reason, she dared not tell him how that acceptance troubled her. Osmond himself seemed like an unknown force as ready to bring confusion as calm.
But he knew.
"You are afraid of him," he said. "Dear child, don't be afraid. Sit down hard and say 'no' and 'no,' whatever he demands. You are here with us. Grannie is an angel of light. She'll send for shining cohorts and they'll camp round about you. There's Peter—your Peter. And I'll die for you."
"No! no!" The assurance of his tone was terrifying to her. She saw him dying in unnecessary sacrifice. "Nobody must die for me. We must all live and be good children and do what grannie would want us to."
"Then the first thing is to run home and go to bed. The storm is coming. Good-night, dear playmate. I'll follow on behind and see you don't get lost."
"One minute!" She paused, not knowing how to say it. "Can't you take it back?" she adventured. "What you said about my father?"
He laughed, with an undertone of wild emotion.
"Not even for you! I did want to kill him. If I got my hands on him, I should want it again. But it was for you."
"Good-night."
She was going, and he called after her,—