He changed color when he saw
"the city gal," as he invariably termed Hilda, and he answered sullenly,
"Gitt'n someth'n for Uncle."
"That is not true," said Hildegarde, quietly, "I have heard your uncle
expressly forbid you to go near that desk. Put those papers back!"
The man hesitated, his little, ferret eyes shifting uneasily from her to
the desk and back again. "I guess I ain't goin' to take orders from no
gal!" he muttered, huskily.
"Put those papers back!" repeated Hildegarde sternly, with a sudden
light in her gray eyes which made the rascal step backward and thrust
the papers hurriedly into the drawer. After which he began to bluster,
as is the manner of cowards. "Pooty thing, city gals comin' hectorin'
round with their airs an'--"
"Shut the drawer!" said Hildegarde, quietly.
But Simon's sluggish blood was warmed by his little bluster, and he took
courage as he reflected that this was only a slight girl, and that no
one else was in the house except "Old Marm," and that many broad meadows
intervened between him and the farmer's stout arm. He would frighten her
a bit, and get the money after all.
"We'll see about that!" he said, taking a step towards Hilda, with an
evil look in his red eyes. "I'll settle a little account with you fust,
my fine lady. I'll teach you to come spyin' round on me this way. Ye
ain't give me a civil word sence ye come here, an' I'll pay ye--"
Here Simon stopped suddenly; for without a word Hildegarde had raised
the pistol (which he had not seen before, as her hand was behind her),
and levelled it full at his head, keeping her eyes steadily fixed on
him.
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