"An old grudge," he deigned an ungracious explanation. "It's years and years old. Steve licked him once. Once when they were boys the folks that live down next to Allison's dressed Steve up like a picture-book, the nearest I can make out, and sent him to town a-shoppin'. Harrigan, he——"
"I know! I remember!" Garry's eager whisper interrupted. "That is, I didn't know that Harrigan was one of the mob Steve whipped that day. But that wasn't what I meant. Who was the—the girl Harrigan was talking about, when Steve—when Steve——"
Joe's fingers tightened a little as the other evinced a tendency to lag.
"Hurry a bit, will you?" he urged complainingly.
"Show a little speed! I'm supposed to be up there asleep." And then, gruffly: "It was the Allison girl, of course."
In spite of the hand upon his elbow Garrett Devereau stopped short in his tracks.
"Barbara!" he stammered. "Barbara Allison? Joe, was that the girl he meant to-night, when he said he was going to 'marry one of those women himself?'"
Joe peered at him, trying to make out the expression upon his face.
"Why not?" he wanted to know. "Why not? Ain't he good enough for her?"
There came a pause—then Garry's stunned rejoinder.