this brought a yell of derision. Lurid thoughts swept through her mind. She
had brought this danger. Her story had become known. What might they not do
to Holcroft? Under the impulse of vague terror and complete self-sacrifice,
she stepped forward and cried, "I only am to blame. I will go away forever if
you will spare--" But again the scornful clamor rose and drowned her voice.

Her action and words had been so swift that Holcroft could not interfere, but
in an instant he was at her side, his arm around her, his square jaw set, and
his eyes blazing with his kindling anger. He was not one of those men who
fume early under provocation and in words chiefly. His manner and gesture
were so impressive that his tormentors paused to listen.

"I know," he said quietly, "all about this old, rude custom--that it's often
little more than a rough lark. Well, now that you've had it, leave at once.
I'm in no mood for such attention from my neighbors. This is my wife, and
I'll break any man's head who says a word to hurt her feelings--"

"Oh yes! Take care of her feelings, now it's your turn. They must 'a' been
hurt before," piped up Tim Weeks.

"Good for you, old man, for showin' us your poorhouse bride," said another.

"We don't fancy such grass-widders, and much married, half-married women in
Oakville," yelled a third.

"Why didn't yer jump over a broomstick for a weddin' ceremony?" someone else
bawled.

These insults were fired almost in a volley. Alida felt Holcroft's arm grow
rigid for a second. "Go in, quick!" he said.