“The boy’s right enough,” mutters Papa. “Open the door, old woman.”
Silently Mamma obeys, and Franz is the first to enter the room. He goes straight over to the table where Leslie sits, scarcely stirring at their entrance, and he looks down at her intently.
“See here, Leschen,” he says, “don’t think that this lockin’ ye in is my doin’s, or that it’s goin’ to be continued. It’s the old woman as is takin’ such precious care of ye.”
Mamma is at his elbow, glancing sharply at him, while she places upon the table pen, ink, and a folded paper.
“We’ve kept our word, gal,” she says harshly, “and we know that after to-day ye may take some queer fancies. Now, this paper is ter signify that we have acted fairly by ye, and ter bind ye not ter make us any trouble hereafter.”
Leslie’s eyes rove slowly from one to the other. She feels that the end has come, and with the last remnant of her courage she keeps back the despairing cry that rises to her lips.
As she gazes, Franz Francoise makes a sudden movement as if to snatch up the paper, then as suddenly withdraws his hand.
“Wot’s in that paper?” he asks, turning to Mamma.
“Ye know well enough,” retorts the old woman tartly. “We’ve promised her the gal, and she’s promised not to inform agin us. We’re goin’ to stick to our bargain, and we want her to stick to hers.”
And she pushes the pen and ink toward Leslie. But the latter does not heed the motion.