“If I were you, Miss Bradley, I should be careful what I said. As, perhaps you saw, I am not in a patient mood.” Lola spoke quietly, but if Alice had not been carried away by her indignation she would hardly have dared to face the look in her eyes. “That dog hurt me; look; my wrist is bleeding. It hurt me, I tell you, and I can’t bear pain! I won’t bear it! I had a right to defend myself.”
“Defend yourself,” exclaimed Alice contemptuously, “against a poor, helpless little creature no larger than a kitten! You should be driven away from this hotel; you shall be, if I have anything to say about it! In fact you must leave here at once, or I shall go myself! That is what I am going to tell my father as soon as I see him.”
“And when do you expect to see him?”
“As soon as he returns.”
“Really? Not until then? Do you know that I feel quite sorry for you, Miss Bradley?”
She entered the hotel and went at once to her room, and when Dick knocked at her door a few moments later she refused to open it, telling him to wait for her on the front veranda.
Dick returned reluctantly to his friends; for once he agreed with them. Lola’s brutality was beyond all excuse. He was a kind-hearted fellow, and the sight of the little girl’s sorrow over the death of her favorite had moved him deeply. He found it hard to forgive Lola; he had made excuses for her times enough, but there had been something in the horror of this last scene difficult to forget. He found Bob and Mrs. Harlan waiting on the veranda, and he knew by the way they looked at him that they had made up their minds to some definite action.
“Dick,” said Mrs. Harlan, as soon as he was within hearing, “we’ve had enough, Bob and I; we’re through!”
“Now, Madge——” he began soothingly.
“No, Dick, we like you, but we’ve had enough. We are going to New York to-night. You can’t say we haven’t stood for a lot, but this thing has made me sick. The girl is crazy, or worse, and life’s too short to take a chance on what she’ll do next.”