It was the chance Fledra had been longing for. She backed from him through the opening of Granny Cronk's room and closed the door. For one minute she stood panting. Then she walked to the window, threw back the small sash, and slipped through. Once in the open air, she shot toward the scow, and in another moment had scurried up the gangplank and into the living-room.
When he saw her, Lem's lips fell away from his pipe, and he rose slowly and awkwardly; but no shade of surrender softened the hard lines settled about the mouth of the panting girl.
"Lem," she gasped, "has Pappy Lon said anything to ye about Mr. Brimbecomb?"
"Yep."
"Are ye goin' to let me go with him?"
"Nope."
"Will ye swear, Lem, that when he comes to the hut ye'll say that he can't have me?"
Lem's jaw dropped, and he uttered a throat sound, guttural and rough.
"Do ye mean, Flea, that ye'd rather come to the scow than go with the young, good-lookin' cuss?"
"Yes, that's what I mean; and Pappy Lon says he's comin'."