"How DID you escape?"
"Well, I'll tell you. We chased him up across the boulevard and in among the tents, and then—" Mrs. Strange lowered her voice until only a murmur reached the listening man. A moment, then both women burst into shrill, excited laughter, and Blaze himself blushed furiously.
This was unbearable! It was bad enough to have that woman in Jonesville, a constant menace to his good name, but to allow her access to his own home was unthinkable. Sooner or later they were bound to meet, and then Paloma would learn the disgraceful truth—yes, and the whole neighborhood would likewise know his shame. In fancy, Blaze saw his reputation torn to shreds and himself exposed to the gibes of the people who venerated him. He would become a scandal among men, an offense to respectable women; children would shun him. Blaze could not bear to think of the consequences, for he was very fond of the women and children of Jonesville, especially the women. He rose from his hammock and tiptoed down the porch into the kitchen, from which point of security he called loudly for his daughter.
Alarmed at his tone, Paloma came running. "What is the matter?" she asked, quickly.
"Get her out!" Blaze cried, savagely. "Get shed of her."
"Her? Who?"
"That varmint."
"Father, what ails you?"
"Nothin' ails me, but I don't want that caterpillar crawlin' around my premises. I don't like her."
Paloma regarded her parent curiously. "How do you know you don't like her when you've never seen her?"