Waldstricker got up heavily.
"You'll do no such thing," he retorted. "Don't dare go near--her!"
Helen flushed at her husband's tone.
"But Deforrest is away," she argued timidly. "I feel I ought to do something."
Madelene went hastily to her brother's side.
"Don't let her go, Ebbie," she gasped. "It's an awful place; a little bit of a hut--"
"I've been in it many times," interrupted Helen, with dignity, "and I do feel, Ebenezer--"
"I want no argument about the matter," said Waldstricker, sternly. "If she's in the condition Madelene says she is, then her home is no place for my wife.... It's shameful, absolutely shameful!"
"But, Ebenezer, she's probably been unfortunate. Poor little child! I wish you'd--"
Waldstricker cut her plea in two with an angry gesture.
"I command you not to go there," said he, sharply.
"Very well," sighed Helen. "Of course, I'll do as you wish."
Then she got up quietly and went upstairs. Indeed, had she her way, she'd have gone to Tessibel Skinner without hesitation. She knew her brother would be grieved to his heart's core, if this awful thing had happened to the little red-headed squatter girl. But she had no choice in the matter.
Frightened, too, she wondered what Ebenezer's plans were. He was so relentless in his desire to punish sinners. Bye and bye, when she was less nervous, she'd ask him to wait until Deforrest returned before doing anything.
Her head was throbbing with excitement. Her heart, too, ached for Tessibel. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Presently, she heard Ebenezer's slow tread coming upstairs. When he entered the room, she raised her lids and smiled.
"Come here, dear," she murmured.
He came directly to her side.
"What is it, my darling?" he asked tenderly.
"I feel so unhappy about the little Skinner girl," sobbed Helen.
"I'm sorry, dear, but you must not go against my wishes. As a good and obedient wife, you should realize I know best. I can't allow you to go down into that cabin."
"I won't go, dearest, but will you please promise me one thing--"
Ebenezer bent upon her a look so stern she dared not finish. "Oh, I do wish Deforrest were here!" she ended irrelevantly.
"I do, too; but as long as he is not, you must trust me to do what I think best."
He went out abruptly, and Helen Waldstricker cried herself to sleep.