The Secret of the Storm Country

Helen got up from her chair. The one thing that stirred her quickest was an attack upon her brother.

"Ebenezer Waldstricker, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Forrie minds his own business and you should mind yours." An hysterical sob brought her to a pause, but she struggled on. "I don't know how I've stood your temper so long. You must have lost your mind."

In view of the grievances he'd been nursing, his wife's sudden rebellion seemed almost too unreasonable to be credited. She'd joined his enemies! She was making common cause with her notorious brother and the squatters! Very well, he'd use her the same as he would them.

"You think rather well of me, don't you Mrs. Waldstricker?" he rasped. "Nice names you call me. Brute! Home destroyer! Procurer of perjury! Liar! Crazy!" His voice grew louder as he hurled the epithets at her and broke into a shriek upon the last one. "Get out of here before I teach you the same lesson I taught Tess Skinner!" He lifted his arm above his head; the great fist was clenched, and the cruel mouth was drawn at both corners. "Get out of here before I hit you!"

Helen stood petrified. The blow had fallen. Mother Moll was right! She retreated before his menacing gestures, but stopped near the door and held up her hand in entreaty. She'd make one more effort.

"But, Ebenezer," she began, "where shall I go?"

Advancing toward her, he fairly shouted: "I don't know and I don't care. Go down and help your brother take care of his squatter baggage!"

He seemed fairly beside himself. Helen realized the hopelessness of further resistance.

"Then I'll go and take my baby," she cried. "Perhaps when we're gone--"

Her words only added fuel to the flame of his wrath.

"You'll not touch my daughter," he interrupted. "She'll stay with me."

He rushed at her, pushed her rudely aside, and hurried up the stairs to the nursery.

His wife followed as quickly as possible. At the nursery door Ebenezer met her and blocked her way.

"You needn't wake her up," he hissed. "Go on! Get out of here! You're worse than the Skinner woman!"

She could not go into the nursery. The angry man on the threshold effectually prevented her. Mrs. Waldstricker turned down the hall and went to her own room. She could hardly comprehend the untoward disaster that had destroyed the whole fabric of her life at one stroke. The blood was throbbing at her temples and pounding through her body. Her ears rang; her face burned and she was trembling all over. Mechanically, she fumbled for the matches on a nearby table, found one and struck it. She attempted to light the lamp but dropped the chimney and it rolled away under the bed.