"Ye can't have us, Pappy Lon—you can't! I'll take care of Flukey, and Mr. Shellington'll take care—of—me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Horace set his teeth firmly as he closed the door, upon Cronk. Through the door window he saw the squatter take his lumbering way down the steps, and noticed that the man paused and looked back at the house. The heavy face was black with baffled rage, and Lon raised his fist and shook it threateningly. If Horace had been determined in the first instant that the squatter should not get possession of the twins, he was now many times more resolute to keep to his decision. For his life, he could not imagine Lon Cronk the father of his young charges.
He returned to the drawing-room, and found Ann and Fledra still together, the girl's face hidden in Miss Shellington's lap.
"Horace," cried Ann, "there can't be any way in which he can take them, can there? He didn't tell you how he found out they were here, did he?"
"No, I forgot to ask him, and it doesn't matter about that. Our only task now will be to keep them from him. Fledra, when you have finished talking with Ann, will you come to me?"
Fledra raised her head. Something in Horace's eyes frightened her. She had never seen him so pale, nor had his lips ever been so set and white.
Ann rose quickly. Of late Horace's actions had aroused her suspicions. She was now fully convinced that Everett had been right. Moreover, she had come to feel that she would willingly overlook Fledra's birth, if her brother's intentions were serious.