In a few moments Jake returned, accompanied by Amy. The blood was oozing through the body and sleeves of the frock that she had hastily thrown on.
"Whar's the spoons?" thundered out Mr. Peterkin.
"I give 'em to Miss Tildy."
"You are a liar," said Miss Tildy, as she dashed up to her, and struck her a severe blow on the temple with a heated poker. Amy dared not parry the blow; but, as she received it, she fell fainting to the floor. Mr. Peterkin ordered Jake to take her out of their presence.
She was taken to the cabin and left lying on the floor. When I went in to see her, a horrid spectacle met my view! There she lay stretched upon the floor, blood oozing from her whole body. I washed it off nicely and greased her wounds, as poor Aunt Polly had once done for me; but these attentions had to be rendered in a very secret manner. It would have been called treason, and punished as such, if I had been discovered.
I had scarcely got her cleansed, and her wounds dressed, before she was sent for again.
"Now," said Miss Tildy, "if you will tell me what you did with the forks, I will excuse you; but, if you dare to say you don't know, I'll beat you to death with this," and she held up a bunch of briery switches, that she had tied together. Now only imagine briars digging and scraping that already lacerated flesh, and you will not blame the equivocation to which the poor wretch was driven.
"Where are they?" asked Miss Jane, and her face was frightful as the Medusa's.
"I hid 'em under a barrel out in the back yard."
"Well, go and get them."