beau."

David's black eyes flashed haughtily at Jonas Hapgood, who
straightened his face suddenly. He deigned not a word to him, but he
turned to his daughter with a stern air. "Whether it is one way, or
whether it is the other way," said he, "we go neither by staying
here. Come home."

"I won't go!"

David looked sharply at his daughter's face. Jonas Hapgood's doubt
was over him too. He wondered, with a great spasm of wrath, if she
could be accusing herself to shield this man who had played her
false.

He grasped her arm again. "Come," he said, "I'll have no more of
this," and Madelon went out with her father. Full of spirit as she
was, she had always been strangely docile with him. He had ruled all
his children with a firm hand from their youth up, and tuned their
wills to suit his ear as he did his viol strings.

"I'll have no foolery," he said to her, gruffly, when they were out
on the road. "I'll have no putting yourself in the wrong to save a
man that's given you the go-by. If ye be fooling me, ye can stop it
now if you're a daughter of mine." He shook his head fiercely at
her.

But Madelon answered him with a burst of wrath that equalled his own.
"I stabbed him because I took him for the man who jilted me a-trying
to kiss me, with Dorothy Fair's kiss on his lips. _Me!_" she cried;