“See here, Mister Man,” remarked Blatch, as Judith prepared to leave. “You’re mighty free and permisc’ous makin’ rules for kissin’ games, but I take notice you don’t follow none of ’em yo’se’f.”
Judith halted uncertainly. To stop and defend Creed was out of the question. She was about to interpose with the general accusation that Blatch was trying to pick a fuss and break up her play-party, when Iley’s voice, for once a welcome interruption, broke in from the doorway.
“Jude, we ain’t got plates enough for everybody an’ to put the biscuit on,” called Jim Cal’s wife. “Ax Creed Bonbright could we borry a few from his house.”
Judith closed instantly with the diversion. She moved quickly toward the door; Bonbright joined her.
“Why yes,” he said. “You know I told you to help yourself. Let me go over now and get what you want. Is there anything else?”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Creed,” Judith thanked him. “I reckon I better go along with ye and see. I don’t think of anything else just now. Iley, we’ll be back quick as we can with all the plates ye need.”
Together they stepped out into the soft dusk of the summer night, followed by the narrowed gaze of Blatch Turrentine’s grey eyes.