“What’s that? What’s that shiny thing you’ve got there, Julie? I want to see it!” cried the tormentor, darting toward her.
She thrust out her hand to keep him off. He flung it aside and clutched at the ribbon.
“Non! non!” she screamed, pushing him away.
At that he became furious, kicking and biting, and pulling her hair. Julie, dropping the baby, shrieked with pain. Baby began to cry lustily. The uproar reached the drawing-room, where there were callers. Madame came rushing in to still the noise. Charley, who had succeeded in tearing it away, now, triumphant, held up the cross.
“See, ma, see! She had it hid in ’er neck! She stole it, you bet!”
“Oh, donnez-la moi! donnez-la moi!”[4] sobbed Julie.
Madame hadn’t time to inquire into the matter. She took the cross away from Charley, though he stoutly resisted, locked it in a drawer of her writing-desk, put the key in her pocket and then went back to her guests.
The young gentleman picked at the lock with his pencil.
“You plagued old thing!” he muttered, shaking his fist and scowling at Julie, “if you hadn’t a’ raised such a rumpus she’d never a’ knowed, and I’d a’ traded it off fur Tommy Tough’s pearl-handled penknife—plague take you!”
After the visitors had gone, Julie, pointing to the writing-desk, entreated: