“Who said I couldn’t?” she demanded. “Uncle Lafe lets me.”
“Your Uncle Lafe said you could marry me,” said Maudlin in slow, drawling tones.
Jinnie’s blood boiled up behind her ears. She was eyeing him in bewilderment. Maudlin’s words made her more angry than she’d ever been in her life.
“You lie, you damn fool!” she cried, and then caught her breath in consternation. It was the first oath that had escaped her lips in many a long day, and she felt truly sorry for it. She would tell Lafe of the provocation that caused it and beg to be forgiven. She moved back a step as Maudlin pinched her.
“I don’t lie,” he growled. “You think because you can scrape on a fiddle you’re better’n other folks. Pa an’ me’ll show you you ain’t.”
“You and your pa don’t know everything,” answered Jinnie, wrathfully.
“We know ’nough to see what King’s doin’ all right.”
He made a dive at the girl and laid a rough hand on the shortwood strap.
“Here! Gimme that wood if you’re too lazy to carry it.”
Jinnie turned her eyes up the road. It was time Bennett came. The sound of his motor would be like sweet music in her ears. She jerked the strap away from the man and turned furiously upon him.