He seized her arm and pulled her back beside him. She tried to free herself, but could not. Her unwelcome escort held her fast and she was obliged to move as slowly as he did. It was very dark.
“Say, what IS your name?” coaxed the man. “Is is Maud, hey? Or Julia? I always liked Julia. Don't be peevish. Tell us, that's a good girl.”
She gave a quick jerk and managed to pull her arm from his grasp, giving him a violent push as she did so. He, being unsteady on his feet, tumbled down the low bank which edged the sidewalk. Then she ran on up the hill as fast as she could. She heard him swear as he fell.
She had nearly reached the end of the Whittaker fence when he caught her. He was laughing, and that alarmed her almost as much as if he had been angry.
“Naughty! naughty!” he chuckled, holding her fast. “Tryin' to sneak, was you? Not much! Not this time! Did you ever play forfeits when you was little? Well, this is a forfeit game and you're It. You must bow to the prettiest, kneel to the wittiest, and kiss the one you love best. And I'll let you off on the first two. Come now! Pay up!”
Then she screamed. And her scream was answered at once. A gate swung back with a bang and she heard some one running along the walk toward her.
“O Cap'n Whittaker!” she called. “Come! Come quick, please!”
How she knew that the person running toward her was Captain Cy has not been satisfactorily explained even yet. She cannot explain it and neither can the captain. And equally astonishing was the latter's answer. He certainly had not heard her voice often enough to recognize it under such circumstances.
“All right, teacher!” he shouted. “I'm comin'! Let go of that woman, you—Oh, it's you, is it?”
He had seized Mr. Smith by the coat collar and jerked him away from his victim. Miss Dawes took refuge behind the captain's bulky form. The two men looked at each other. Smith was recovering his breath.