Helen uttered an anxious exclamation. She knew her husband's dislike of the squatters. Her quick glance at his face called from his stern lips the cold question.
"Have you finished?"
"No."
"Then do!" he snarled, opening and closing his hands impatiently.
"You may ask me what proof I have," Helen read on, a slight pucker between her brows, "and I will say this: Fred has two or three times called me by her name, nearly dying of embarrassment when I asked him to account for it. Then once in his sleep he called out quite sharply, 'Tessibel!' He flies into all kinds of rages when I ask him questions about her. He won't admit he's ever cared anything for her—"
Helen looked up again and paused momentarily.
"Well, Ebenezer, he used to like Tessibel!"
Waldstricker waved his hand angrily.
"What's past is past!" he roared. "And now he's got to treat my sister decently, or I'll know the reason why.... The young pup! Why, here I've given him the chance of his life!... But finish the letter!"
Helen sighed as she again allowed her eyes to rest on the page in her hand.