"Might know you was around, Tom Crowl," said Mrs. Groody. "There's never nothing wrong going on but you see it. You are worse than any old woman for gossip. Why don't you put on petticoats and go out to tea for a livin'?"
When the laugh ceased at Crowl's expense, he said:
"Don't you put on airs, Mrs. Groody; you are as glad, to hear the news as any one. It's a pity you turned up and spoiled Mr. Lacey's part of the play, for, if this one is anything like her sister, she, perhaps, wanted to be held, as you—"
Tom's further utterance was effectually stopped by such a blow across his mouth, from Lacey's hand, as brought the blood profusely on the spot, and caused such disfigurement, for days after, that appropriate justice seemed visited on the offending region.
"Leave this dock," said Arden, sternly; "and if I trace any slander to you concerning this lady or myself, I will break every bone in your miserable body."
Crowl shrank off amid the jeers of the crowd, but on reaching a safe distance, said, "You will be sorry for this."
Arden paid no need to him, for Edith, under Mrs. Groody's treatment, gave signs of returning consciousness. She slowly opened her eyes, and turned them wonderingly around; then came a look of wild alarm, as she saw herself surrounded by strange bearded faces, that appeared both savage and grotesque in the flickering light of the lantern.
"O, Heaven! have mercy," she cried, faintly. "Where am I?"
"Among friends, I assure you, Miss Allen," said Arden, kneeling at her side.
"Mr. Lacey! and are you here?" said Edith, trying to rise. "You surely will protect me."