Stiffbold’s face was suffused with fury as he recognized Dorothy and Tavia, and he took a threatening step forward. Philo Marsh reached out a hand and drew him back, saying in mild tones:
“Easy there, Stiffbold. Don’t do anything you are likely to regret.”
“So, ladies to the rescue, eh?” sneered Lightly, thrusting his hands into his pockets and regarding the girls with an insulting leer. “Regular little heroines and all, ain’t you? Well, now, I’ll be blowed!”
“Young ladies, this isn’t the place for you, you know.” Philo Marsh took a step forward, reaching out his hand toward Joe. “You’re interfering, you know, and you’re likely to get yourselves in a heap o’ trouble. But if you’ll go away and stay away and keep your mouths closed——”
“And leave my brother here with you scoundrels, I suppose?” suggested Dorothy.
The hypocritical expression upon the face of Philo Marsh changed suddenly to fury at her short, scornful laugh.
“Scoundrels, is it?” he sneered. “Well, my young lady, maybe you’ll know better than to call honest people names before you leave this place.”
“Honest people! You?” cried Dorothy, no longer able to contain her furious indignation. “That sounds startling coming from you, Philo Marsh, and your—honest friends!
“Do you call it honest,” she took a step forward and the men retreated momentarily, abashed before her fury, “to take a poor boy away from his people, to hide him here in a place like this, to torture him physically and mentally, to attempt to make him false to all his standards of right——”
“See here, this won’t do!” Lightly blustered, but Dorothy turned upon him like a tigress.