"Andy! Andy!" she screamed.
Andy came downstairs as fast as his little legs could carry him.
"Waldstricker's killed Boy!" gasped Tess. "Andy, get something.... Tell Mother Moll.... Some water!"
She laid the baby on the divan in the sitting room and stood over him until old Moll came.
"He air got a spasm," croaked the old woman. "Poor little brat! Get some hot water."
For hours the child passed from one convulsion into another. When Deforrest came home, Tess was in a state of frantic despair.
"Waldstricker struck him," she explained. "He's going to die."
In response to his questions, the girl gave him the details, and hotter and hotter grew the listener's anger. He attempted to quiet Tessibel's fears while he got ready to go for the doctor, but she persisted in her claim that Boy wouldn't recover.
* * * * *
On his way home, the elder tried to make peace with himself. He was rather sorry he'd struck the boy; that he'd hurt the little imp, he poofed at. Anyway, he had taught Tess Skinner to keep her brat out of his way. His efforts to discipline her had resulted in an open breach with his brother-in-law and caused discord between himself and his wife. His disputes with Deforrest about the squatters had not turned out to his satisfaction. His efforts to drive the old witch off his lake-land by tearing down her shack had opened to her the house that he himself owned. He had had to pay Sandy Letts the $5,000 reward for the capture of Andy Bishop, and the whole city had laughed at the price paid for the little man's short imprisonment. He'd tried every way he knew to put an end to the situation. Helen ought to be able to do something with her brother. She should have saved her husband from the gossip Forrie was causing.
When he entered his home, Helen perceived that he'd acquired a new grievance and discreetly remained silent while he was preparing himself for dinner.
After a quiet meal, when they had seated themselves by the log fire in the library, Mrs. Waldstricker took up a doll's dress she was finishing for Elsie's Christmas. Her husband, stretched in an easy chair, glowered sullenly into the grate flames. The meditations of husband and wife were quite different. Helen wondered what was bothering Ebenezer now. She wished they were more companionable; that things were pleasanter, more as it used to be when they were abroad. Since their return, he'd sit for hours in gloomy meditation. His fits of complete abstraction filled her with dread.