had held no personal spite towards Delight but she was tired of hearing her praises sung by the infatuated men. Mrs. Jessop had, for years, been her father's best customer. Beemer had bought nothing. Now Beemer (through Delight) was ruining The Duke of York. A little rough-house, Nannie thought, would clear the air, and it was a grand outlet for high spirits.
The other girl, Gertie Reed, was a sharp-featured factory girl. Mrs. Jessop had chosen her because she was afraid of no one.
"Nannie, Nannie, I never thought to see you mixed up in a mess like this," cried fat Tom Wilcox.
"Oh, Father, we didn't hurt her. It was only what she deserved, anyway."
Kirke shook his fist at her.
"The buckle end of a strap is what you desairve. And you'd get it if I had the handling of ye!"
"You let Nannie alone," said Wilcox. "She's no worse than the others."
"Jump into the boat, Mr. Kirke," invited Gertie Reed, "and we'll row you across to your lady-love. This here is the river Jordan and she's waiting in heaven on the other side." She leaned on her oars, raising her vixenish face to the fringe of men on the shore.
"I'll come fast enough. You'll be made to suffer for this, I warn you."
Mr. Mayberry struggled to the front and raised a trembling hand. "I beg you, don't let this man in the boat. He's not fit. He's a loose liver. I tell you I'm going to marry that poor, dear girl. I will marry her! I will—I will—I will—" He would have hurled himself into the boat but Fergussen pushed him ruthlessly aside and himself charged toward the prow that now nosed seductively against the shore.
