As voices called “Faster!” and still “Faster!” Jinnie let go the shortwood strap to fling aside her curls. Just at that moment she whirled nearer Maudlin Bates, who thrust forth his great foot and tripped her. As she staggered, not one of those watching had sense enough to catch her as she fell. At that moment the door swung open and Peg Grandoken’s face appeared. She looked questioningly at the market man.
“I thought I saw Jinnie come in,” she hesitated––
Then realizing something was wrong, her eyes fell upon the stricken girl.
“She was just earnin’ a little sausage by dancin’,” the butcher excused.
Peggy stared and stared, stunned for the moment. The hangdog expression on Maudlin’s face expressed his crime better than words would have done. Jinnie’s little form was huddled against the counter, the shortwood scattered around her, and from her forehead blood was oozing. On the slender arm was the ring of sausage and between her set teeth was Lafe’s pale rose. With her outraged soul shining in her eyes, Peggy gathered the unconscious girl in her two strong arms.
“I bet you done it, you damn Maudlin!” she gritted, and without another word, left the market.
Within a few minutes she had laid Jinnie on her bed, and was telling Lafe the pathetic story.