Mehalah's wrath was rising. She had endured much that day—more than she could well bear. The impertinence of this malicious girl was intolerable altogether. She turned away to leave her.
'Stop! stop!' shouted Timothy. 'I have come here with a message to you. I have come here expressly to see you. I picked up Miss Musset on the way——'
'You picked me up just to amuse me till you found Glory!' screamed Phoebe. 'Now you pitch me overboard, as that savage treated me once. I will not stand this. Timothy, come back this instant! Row me back to Mersea. I have not come here to be insulted. I will not speak another word with you unless you——'
'For heaven's sake,' cried Timothy, tearing down the sea-wall and jumping into the boat, 'come in, Phoebe, at once, or I shall be off and leave you!'
'What is the matter now?'
He had his knife out, and was hacking through the cord that attached his boat to Dowsing's. In another moment he was rowing as hard as he could down the creek.
Admonition appeared on the wall. Timothy had detected her crossing the marsh, and fled.
She turned in fury on Phoebe.
Mehalah withdrew to the windmill, away from their angry voices, and remained sitting by the sea till the shadows of evening fell.
Then she returned, a fixed determination in her face, which was harder and more moody than before.