The three
went together, but it was Grant who reached her first.
"Don't cry, Goldilocks," he said tenderly, bending over her.
"It's all right now. There isn't going to be any more--"
"Oh! Don't TOUCH me!" She sprang up and backed from him, horror
plain in her wide eyes. "Make him keep away, Aunt Phoebe!"
Good Indian straightened, and stood perfectly still, looking at
her in a stunned, incredulous way.
"Chicken, don't be silly!" Miss Georgie's sane tones were like a
breath of clean air. "You've simply gone all to pieces. I know
what nerves can do to a woman--I've had 'em myself. Grant isn't
going to bite you, and you're not afraid of him. You're proud of
him, and you know it. He's acted the man, chicken!--the man we
knew he was, all along. So pull yourself together, and let's not
have any nonsense."
"He--KILLED a man! I saw him do it. And he's going to kill some
more. I might have known he was like that! I might have KNOWN
when he tried to shoot me that night in the orchard when I was
trying to scare Gene! I can show you the mark--where he grazed my
arm! And he LAUGHED about it! I called him a savage then--and I
was RIGHT--only he can be so nice when he wants to be--and I
forgot about the Indian in him--and then he killed Mr.
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