"How?"
"'Cause I would."
Patty whirled suddenly upon the girl and grasping her shoulder with a doughy hand shook her smartly: "Who told you that? What do you mean? Who are you trying to get that picture for? Come! Out with it!"
"Le' me go," whimpered the girl, frightened by the unexpected attack.
"Not 'til you tell me who told you about that picture. Come on—speak!" The shaking continued.
"Hit—wu-wu-wus—V-V-Vil Hol-Holland!" she sniffled readily—all too readily to be convincing, thought Patty, as she released her grip on the girl's shoulder.
"Oh, it was Vil Holland, was it? And what does he want with it?"
"He—he—s-says h-how h-him an' m-me'd g-git r-r-rich!"
"Who told you to say it was Vil Holland?"
"Hit wus Vil Holland—an' that's whut I gotta say," she repeated, between sobs. "An' now yo' mad—an'—an' Mr. Bethune he'll—he'll kill me."