“And now!” laughed Miss Debby doubling her fists at an unseen foe, “come on you old cat of a Mistress Knowles, there is another rascal in town to-night who would like nothing better than to close your eyes for a week or so!”
CHAPTER III.
ALL THAT WAS LEFT OF DEBBY.
It was no great thing for Debby to clamber from her bedroom window to the ground below. She had done it more than once with her skirts on; in this approved apparel anything seemed possible, anything but being a lady. That hope was done with forever. She had crossed the line now. Before her lay—she hardly knew what—but the thought chased the fun from her face.
Ah! Debby, misguided little maid, as you turned your back on what your dead mother had wished you to be, she was perhaps nearer to you than ever before. With tears filling her dark eyes, the girl fled along. Down the long hill and across the meadow which lay behind the old deserted log house and divided it from the woodland. And there at the edge of the woods stood Jack Martin awaiting his belated comrade.
He saw the boy approaching and was filled with alarm at the sight. If Debby came now how were they to get out of the scrape?
“Hello!” he shouted to the oncoming stranger, “whither away so fast?”
“On the King’s business,” panted the boy as he drew near.
Jack gasped.
“Your name?” he faltered, “and pray what business have you with me?”
