Wollaston went to a distant seat and sat by himself. The two girls waited miserably. Gladys had suffered a relapse. Her degeneracy of wit had again overwhelmed her. She looked at Maria from time to time, then she glanced around at Wollaston, and her expression was almost idiotic. The people who were on the seat with them moved away. Maria turned suddenly to Gladys.
“Gladys Mann,” said she, “if you ever tell of this—”
“Then you ain't goin' to—” said Gladys.
“Going to what?”
“Live with him?”
“Live with him! I hate him enough to wish he was dead. I'll never live with him; and if you tell, Gladys Mann, I'll tell you what I'll do.”
“What?” asked Gladys, in a horrified whisper.
“I'll go and drown myself in Fisher's Pond, that's what I'll do.”
“I never will tell, honest, M'ria,” said Gladys.
“You'd better not.”