"Don't touch her, Dad!" Douglas' voice had the old note of warning in it.
But John, furious that his children should be defying him in public, was quite beyond any effort at self control. He rushed on toward the bed.
"You blank-blank!" screamed Judith. "You aren't fit to touch Little Marion's feet! You or Charleton either!"
John seized Judith's arm. Quick as a lynx-cat, Douglas leaped across the room, seized his father from behind and was dragging him toward the door when Grandma Brown ran in.
"Now," she cried sternly, "what does this mean? Every one of you get out of here as fast as your feet will carry you!"
John stood up, sheepishly, Douglas eying him belligerently.
"Look here, Grandma," Charleton shook his finger in the old lady's face, "I want you to understand that—"
"Understand!" shrilled Grandma. "Understand! You have the face to try to say anything to me, Charleton Falkner? Do you think any man in this valley can have anything to tell me I want to hear, least of all you, Charleton Falkner? I know your history, man! And yours too, John Spencer. And you can either get out or listen while I tell these children a few facts about you."
Charleton put a cigarette between his teeth, handed one to John, lighted his own, gave a light to John and, John at his heels, walked out into the night.
"You and Douglas go home, Judith," said Grandma briskly. "Jimmy, I want a talk with Little Marion. You put that door back on the hinges, then disappear."
So Judith and Douglas rode away. It was a heavenly
