"I'll never eat a mouthful!" cried Rosalie, a brave, stubborn light in her eyes. She was standing in the far corner drying her face with her handkerchief.
"Oho, you can talk again, eh? Hooray! Now we'll hear the story of her life," laughed big Sam, his mouth full of bacon and bread. Rosalie flushed and the tears welled to her eyes.
All day long she suffered taunts and gibes from the gang. She grew to fear Davy's ugly leers more than the brutal words of the others. When he came near she shrank back against the wall; when he spoke she cringed; when he attempted to touch her person she screamed. It was this act that brought Sam's wrath upon Davy's head. He won something like gratitude from the girl by profanely commanding Davy to confine his love to looks and not to acts.
"She ain't to be harmed," was Sam's edict. "That goes, too."
"Aw, you go to—" began Davy belligerently.
"What's that?" snarled Sam, whirling upon him with a glare. Davy slunk behind his mother and glared back. Bill moved over to Sam's side. For a moment the air was heavy with signs of an affray. Rosalie crouched in her corner, her hand over her ears, her eyes closed. There was murder in Davy's face. "I'll break every bone in your body!" added Sam; but Bill laconically stayed him with a word.
"Rats!" It was brief, but it brought the irate Sam to his senses. Trouble was averted for the time being.
"Davy ain't afraid of him," cried that worthy's mother shrilly.
"You bet I ain't!" added Davy after a long string of oaths. Sam grinned viciously.