"Do you like him, Ingua?"
"I hate him! But he's a Cragg, an' I'm a Cragg, an' the Craggs kin stand up an' spit at the world, if they wants to."
"That's right," agreed Josie, emphatically. "We've got to stick up for our own families and fight for our good name when it's necessary. Do you think I'd let anybody get the best of a Jessup? Never in a thousand years!"
Ingua nodded her head as if pleased.
"That's the way I look at it, Josie. Ev'rybody's down on Ol' Swallertail, an' I'm down on him myself, fer that matter; but I'll dare anybody to say anything ag'in him when I'm aroun'. An' yet, Josie—an' yet—I ain't sure but he's—but he's a murderer!"
She had dropped her voice until she scarcely breathed the last words and her little body trembled through and through with tense nervousness. Josie took her hand.
"Never mind, dear," she said gently. "Perhaps he didn't kill Ned Joselyn, after all."
Ingua sprang up with a hoarse scream and glared at Josie in absolute terror.
"How'd ye know? How'd ye know it were Ned Joselyn?" she demanded, trembling more and more.
Josie's reply was a smile. Josie's smile was essentially winning and sweet. It was reassuring, trustful, friendly.