He shook her again.
"You ate my trout!" he cried. "Pity they didn't choke you. Didn't you feel like choking—eating stolen trout, eh?"
"Gran' did," said the girl, ruefully. "But 'twas a bone, sir. She didn't know they were stolen till I told her."
The sound of Farmer Ellison's wrathful voice had rung through the house, and at this moment a woman entered the room. At the sight of her, Bess Thornton suddenly darted away from the man's grasp, ran to Mrs. Ellison, hid her face in her dress and sobbed.
"I didn't think 'twas so bad," she said. "I—I won't do it again—ever."
Mrs. Ellison, whose face expressed a tenderness in contrast to the hardness of her husband's, stroked the girl's hair softly, seated herself in a rocking chair, and drew the girl close to her.
"What made you take the fish?" she inquired softly.
"Well, gran' said we ought to have the whole place by rights—"
Mrs. Ellison directed an inquiring glance at her husband.
"She's been complaining that way ever since I bought it," he said.