The girl's eyes blazed, angrily; but it was not the Bess Thornton of every day that now faced the youth. Some of her fearlessness and dash seemed to have departed, with the taking off of the old dress.
"Let me past," she said, stepping forward; but the boy blocked her way.
"Let me look at the new dress," he demanded. "Where'd you get so much?"
He caught her by an arm, as she attempted to brush past him. Greatly to his surprise, however, he felt his hand cast off and, at the same time, he was nearly upset by a vigorous push. The youth who had done this, apparently not the least excited, stood facing him as he recovered himself.
"Let the girl alone," said Henry Burns. "Let her go past."
One could hardly have noted a trace of anger in his voice, but there was a warning in his eye that Benny Ellison might have heeded. The latter, however, was no longer in a mood to stop at any warning. His flabby face reddened and his fist clenched.
"You'll not stop me!" he cried, taking a step toward the girl. "I'll push both of you in there, if you don't get out."
"Just try it," said Henry Burns, quietly.
Benny Ellison, larger and heavier than the youth who thus dared him, hesitated only a moment. Then he rushed at Henry Burns and they clinched. The struggle seemed over before it had hardly begun, however, for the next moment Benny Ellison found himself lying on his back in the road, with Henry Burns firmly holding him there.
"Let me up!" he cried, squirming and kicking. "You don't dare let me up."