"Now you've done it!" he said between
his teeth. "How will you get your pelts to the station now? I won't
be able to take them."
There ensued a dismayed silence. The woman had come back from the
kitchen and stood with a steaming dish in her hands. After the brief
pause of consternation she set down the dish and went over to Pete.
"Here," she said, "sit down and let me take off your moccasin and
bathe your ankle before it begins to swell."
Hugh Garth had seated himself in the thronelike chair at the head
of the table. His expression was still defiant, indifferent, and
lordly. "Come and eat your dinner, both of you," he commanded. "You've
had your lesson, Pete. After this, I guess you'll do what I tell you
to--not choose the work that happens to suit your humor. Don't, for
God's sake, baby him, Bella. Don't start being a grandmother before
you've ever been a sweetheart. You're too young for the one even if
you're getting a bit too old for the other!"
Bella flushed deep and hot. She went to her place, and Pete hobbled
to his, opposite his brother. Between them the woman sat, dyed deep
in her sudden unaccustomed wave of scarlet. Pete's whiteness too was
stained in sympathy.
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