At that moment a shadow fell upon the square of moonlight on the floor. Mandy started back with a cry.
“My! you scairt me. We were—Allan—Mr. Cameron was learnin' me the Highland schottische.” Her face and her voice were full of fear.
It was Perkins. White, silent, and rigid, he stood regarding them, for minutes, it seemed, then turned away.
“Let's finish,” said Cameron quietly.
“Oh! no, no!” said Mandy in a low voice. “He's awful mad! I'm scairt to death! He'll do something! Oh! dear, dear! He's awful when he gets mad.”
“Nonsense!” said Cameron. “He can't hurt you.”
“No, but you!”
“Oh, don't worry about me. He won't hurt me.”
Cameron's tone arrested the girl's attention.
“But promise me—promise me!” she cried, “that you won't touch him.” She clutched his arm in a fierce grip.