"I will never give you the money while I live, and if you kill me to get it, it will do you no good. You will be hanged for my murder."
Perhaps granny saw the force of this reasoning, for she desisted from her brutality, whining:
"I'm so poor, so miserably poor, that you ought to give me every penny you get."
"And dress in rags!" cried the girl indignantly. "No, granny, I will never do it again, and if you illtreat me any more, I will run away from you, and then you will starve."
She knew she would never have the heart to carry out her threat, but she had found out that she could intimidate the old woman by the threat of leaving, so she put on a bold air, and continued:
"Here is five dollars for a present, and it is all you will get of that money. I gave away twenty-five dollars in keepsakes to my girl friends before I left Stonecliff, and I have spent thirty dollars for some decent clothes to wear. Now, I have given you five dollars, and I have but forty left, and I shall keep that for myself, in case I have to run away from you and hide myself from your brutality."
Granny snatched eagerly at the money, muttering maledictions on the girl for her extravagance, but Liane, sitting with downcast eyes, pretended not to take any notice of her, until the old woman, glaring at her in wonder at the beauty that could win such a prize, demanded harshly:
"Was Miss Clarke's picture in that contest?"
When Liane answered in the affirmative, she was startled at the woman's anger.
"You dared to take that prize over beautiful Roma's head—you?" she cried furiously.