"Very well," said Derek, "but if she thinks I will pay any more for the picking she's mistaken."
Phœbe brought the milk and Derek set out through the orchard with the children. It was dusk, and a lantern had been lighted in the old part of the shack. A red shaft of light through the open door pierced the dimness of the orchard like the gleam of a baleful eye. Under the trees the air was intensely sultry. As Derek drew near, the two little girls suddenly darted away from his side, so that he approached alone. At the same instant several dark figures passed out of the shack and appeared to go around to the addition.
When Derek stood in the doorway, only the old squaw, Fawnie, Esther, and Jammery were inside. Fawnie was standing under the lantern. In the red glow her cheeks had the bloom of a dark, ripe peach. Her lips were pressed together in an inscrutable smile. Esther and Jammery stood with bent heads, but the old woman turned a look of thunderous fury on Derek.
"Look here, Mr. Vale," she said, in a thick voice, "I want you to take that woman o' yours away out o' here. I won't stand her around me any longer."
Derek stared at her in astonishment. "What woman?" he said, sharply. "What do you mean?"
"That woman there," she replied jerking her head towards Fawnie. "That woman that's got a baby born of yours last April. You get her out o' here or I'll kill her."
Derek turned to Esther—she had always seemed a sensible girl. "Is your mother crazy?" he asked.
Esther answered composedly, "No, she ain't crazy, she's just mad. Fawnie's got a little boy belongin' to you and Maw says she won't have any white babies livin' with her."
Derek looked at her directly, ignoring the old squaw.
