“Mrs. Grimes!” gasped Laura, as the auto stopped. The butcher’s wife and daughter were sitting in the tonneau. Hester looked straight ahead and did not even glance at her two school-fellows.
“Isn’t that young Pocock, that used to work for your father, Hester?” demanded Mrs. Grimes. “That’s a very bad boy. What’s he been doing to you, Laura?”
“He has stolen that little horse from Eve’s father,” cried Laura. “And now he won’t give it up.”
“’Tain’t so!” cried Hebe Pocock, loudly. “Don’t you believe that gal, Mis’ Grimes. I bought this horse——”
“Hebe,” said the butcher’s wife, calmly, “you never had money enough in your life to buy a horse like that—and you never will have. Lead it up here and let the girl have her father’s property. And you women, go back to your homes—and clean up, for mercy’s sake! I never did see such a shiftless, useless lot as you are at the Four Corners. When I lived there, we had some decency about us——”
“Oh, Mother!” gasped Hester, grasping the good lady’s arm.
“Well, that’s where we lived—your father an’ me,” declared Mrs. Grimes. “It was near the slaughter houses and handy for him. And let me tell you, there was respectable folk lived there in them days. Hebe Pocock! Are you goin’ to do what I tell you?”
The fellow came along in a very hang-dog manner and passed the strap to Eve Sitz.
“’Tain’t fair. It’s my horse,” he growled.
“You know better,” said Mrs. Grimes, calmly. “And you expect Mr. Grimes to find you a good job, do you? You wanted to get to be watchman, or the like, in town? If I tell Henry about this what chance do you suppose you’ll ever have at that job?”