Here was an unlooked-for state of affairs—no money, and no one willing to use the rod, though she undoubtedly deserved it.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Cherry curiously.
"Lick myself likely," retorted Peace sarcastically. "You better lug those eggs up to the doctor's. I've d'livered my bunch."
Cherry vanished as quickly as she had come, and as the sound of her footsteps died away in the distance, Peace slid down the ladder. But instead of going to the house for an interview with Gail, she slipped through the garden, crawled under the fence, and presented herself at the door of the new barn where Mr. Hartman, still in a blaze of anger, was at work.
"What do you want here, you tormented rascal?" he yelled in fury, shaking a hazel switch threateningly at her.
"I came to get licked," she answered steadily, though quaking inwardly.
"Wh-at?" he gasped in unbelieving amazement.
"I heard what you said to Gail about paying or licking me, and she hasn't got any money to pay for my meanness, and she says—she says she can't whip me; so I've come to you for it."
She really did not expect him to punish her in that manner, for ordinarily he was not a hard-hearted man; but in view of Peace's misdemeanor, Gail's hesitation angered him only the more, and catching the child by her shoulder, he gave her a dozen sharp, stinging lashes with his switch, then released her, thoroughly ashamed of himself.
He expected her to cry and scream, but she bit her lips, blinked her brown eyes rapidly to keep the tears back, and stood like a statue until he dropped his stick. Then choking back the sobs in her throat, she faced him with the curt demand, "Give me a receipt, please."