“Well, I have one more thing to say,” said Leslie slowly, as she swerved into her own street and her eyes hungrily sought for the lights of Cloudy Villa. “You’re coming into the house with me first, before you go anywhere else, and you’re going to tell this whole story to my Aunt Jewel. After that––I should worry!”
“Well, I rather guess I am not going into your old house and tell your old aunt anything! I’m going to get right out here this minute; and you’re good and going to let me out, too, or I’ll scream bloody murder, and tell it all over this town how you went out there to meet those boys. You haven’t got any witnesses, and I have, remember!” said Myrtle, suddenly feeling courageous now that she was back among familiar streets.
But Leslie turned sharply into the little drive, and brought up the car in a flood of light at the end of the terrace.
“Now, get out!” she ordered, swinging the door open and flashing her little revolver about again at the angry girl.
“O Leslie!” pleaded the victim, quickly quelled by the sight of the cold steel, and thrilled with the memory of that shot whistling by her into the road a few hours before.
“Get out!” said Leslie coolly as the front door was flung open and Julia Cloud peered through the brightness of the porch light into the darkness.
“Get out!” Leslie held the cold steel nearer to Myrtle’s face, and the girl shuddered, and got out.
“Now go into the house!” she ordered; and shuddering, shivering, with a frightened glance behind her and a fearful glance ahead, she walked straight into the wondering, shocked presence of Julia Cloud, who threw the door open wide and stepped aside to let them in. Leslie, with the revolver still raised, and pointed toward the other girl, came close behind Myrtle, who sidled hastily around to get behind Miss Cloud.
“Why, Leslie! What is the matter?” gasped Julia Cloud.