"There's no great hurry," said he, munching away. "It's warm here and cozy. What's got you, Priscilla? You was mighty keen to come, and you ain't finished your errand yet. What's ailing you? No one could help the storm, and we'd be swamped in the bay if we was there now."
Priscilla got up and walked slowly toward the door, but without any apparent reason Jerry-Jo arose also, and, still chewing his bread and meat, backed away from the table, keeping himself between the girl and whatever her object was. Noticing this, a real terror seized upon Priscilla and she darted in the opposite direction, reached the hearth, and was bending toward a heavy poker which lay there, before she herself could have explained her motive. Jerry-Jo was alert. Tossing his food upon the table as he strode forward, he gripped her wrist.
"None of that!" he muttered. "What ails you, Priscilla?" They faced each other at close range.
"I—I am afraid of you!"
At this McAlpin threw back his head and roared with laughter, releasing her at the same time. With freedom Priscilla gained a bit of courage and a keen sense of the necessity of calmness. She did not move away from Jerry-Jo, but fixing him with her wide eyes she asked:
"Are—are the—family here—here in Kenmore?" Suspicion and anger shook the voice. The slow, tense words brought things down to fact.
"No! God knows where they are! I don't know or care."
Brought face to face with great danger, mental or physical, the majority of people rise to the call. Priscilla knew now that she was in grave peril—peril of a deeper kind than even her tormentor could realize. Every nerve and emotion came to her defence. She would hold this creature at bay as hunters hold the wild things of the woods when gun or club fail. Then, after that, she would have to deal with what must inevitably confront her at home. She seemed to be standing alone amid cruel and unfamiliar foes, but she was calm!
"You lied, then? What for?"
"What do you think?"