“Don’t you be frightened, my dear,” she whispered; and then to herself—“Why don’t Sam come?”
“Mr Sturt,” said Mrs Lane, firmly in voice, though she trembled as she spoke to the fellow, “you have no right to try and force us to stay if we wish to leave.”
“Oh! aint I,” said Barney. “I’ll let you see about that. Here, give us that,” he said, turning to snatch a paper from his wife’s hand. “Let alone what he telled me too, about yer—”
“He! Who?” exclaimed Mrs Lane, excitedly.
Netta started from her chair.
“Never you mind,” said Barney, showing his great teeth in a grin. “You think I don’t know all about yer, now, don’t yer? But you’re precious mistaken!”
“But tell me, man, has any one—”
“There, there, it’s all right, Mrs Lane—you’ve got to stop here, that’s what you’ve got to do. What have you got to say to that, for another thing?”
As Barney spoke, he thrust the paper down before Mrs Lane, and went on smoking furiously.
“What’s this? I don’t owe you anything,” said Mrs Lane, whose courage seemed failing.