Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The mere mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for her to ride to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up to the point of doing it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came from the ring.
“Mr. Barker, please!”
He turned upon her sharply.
“Well, what is it NOW?”
“I want to ask you to let me off again to-night.” She spoke in a short, jerky, desperate way.
“What?” he shrieked. “Not go into the ring, with all them people inside what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?”
“That's it,” she cried. “I can't! I can't!”
“YER gettin' too tony!” Barker sneered. “That's the trouble with you. You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that parson's house. Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. First thing yer know yer'll be out all 'round.”
“Out?”
“Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do you?”