“Have you been talking to that girl?” asked Douglas, sternly.
“I have,” said Strong, holding his ground.
“See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating that child, I may forget that I'm a minister.” The knuckles on Douglas's large fists grew whiter.
“She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said either. She's goin' back to the circus.”
“I don't believe you.”
“You would a-believed me if you'd seen the fellow that was just a-callin' on her, and her a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and a-promisin' that she'd be a-waitin' for him here when he come back.”
“You lie!” cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating deacon.
“There's the fellow now,” cried Strong, as he pointed to the gate. “Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar.”
Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approaching. His face lighted up with relief at the sight of the big, lumbering fellow.
“How are yer, Mr. Douglas?” said Jim, awkwardly.