So, with fierce industry she poised, counted and hopped, according to Cameron's instructions and example, with never a sign of weariness, but alas with little indication of progress.
"Oh, shucks! I can't do it!" she cried at length, pausing in despair. "I think we could do it better together. That's the way Mack and Isa do it. I've seen them at it for an hour."
Cameron's heart sank within him. He had caught an exchange of glances between the two young people mentioned and he could quite understand how a lesson in the intricacies of the Highland schottische might very well be extended over an hour to their mutual satisfaction, but he shrank with a feeling of dismay, if not disgust, from a like experience with the girl before him.
He was on the point of abruptly postponing the lesson when his eye fell upon her face as she stood in the moonlight which streamed in through the open door. Was it the mystic alchemy of the moon on her face, or was it the glowing passion in her wonderful eyes that transfigured the coarse features? A sudden pity for the girl rose in Cameron's heart and he said gently, "We will try it together, Mandy."
He took her hand, put his arm about her waist, but, as he drew her towards him, with a startled look in her eyes she shrank back saying hurriedly:
"I guess I won't bother you any more to-night. You've been awfully good to me. You're tired."
"Not a bit, Mandy, come along," replied Cameron briskly.
At that moment a shadow fell upon the square of moonlight on the floor. Mandy started back with a cry.
"My! you scairt me. We were--Allan--Mr. Cameron was learnin' me the Highland schottische." Her face and her voice were full of fear.
It was Perkins. White, silent, and rigid, he stood regarding them, for minutes, it seemed, then turned away.
"Let's finish," said Cameron quietly.
"Oh! no, no!" said Mandy in a low voice. "He's awful mad! I'm scairt to death! He'll do something! Oh! dear, dear! He's awful when he gets mad."
"Nonsense!" said Cameron. "He can't hurt you."
"No, but you!"
"Oh, don't worry about me. He won't hurt me."
Cameron's tone arrested the girl's attention.
"But promise me--promise me!" she cried, "that you won't touch him." She clutched his arm in a fierce grip.
"Certainly I won't touch him," said Cameron easily, "if he behaves himself." But in his heart he was conscious of a fierce desire that Perkins would give him the opportunity to wipe out a part at least of the accumulated burden of insult he had been forced to bear during the last three weeks.
"Oh!" wailed Mandy, wringing her hands. "I know you're going to fight him. I don't want you to! Do you hear me?" she cried, suddenly gripping Cameron again by the arm and shaking him. "I don't want you to! Promise me you won't!" She was in a transport of fear.
"Oh, this is nonsense, Mandy," said Cameron, laughing at her.
"There won't be any fight. I'll run away."
"All right," replied the girl quietly, releasing his arm.
"Remember you promised." She turned from him.
"Good night, Mandy. We will finish our lesson another time, eh?" he said cheerfully.
"Good night," replied Mandy, dully, and passed through the kitchen and into the house.
Cameron watched her go, then poured for himself a glass of milk from a pitcher that always stood upon the table for any who might be returning home late at night, and drank it slowly, pondering the situation the while.
"What a confounded mess it is!" he said to himself. "I feel like cutting the whole thing. By Jove! That girl is getting on my nerves! And that infernal bounder! She seems to-- Poor girl! I wonder if he has got any hold on her. It would be the greatest satisfaction in the world to teach HIM a few things too. But I have made up my mind that I am not going to end up my time here with any row, and I'll stick to that; unless--" and, with a tingling in his fingers, he passed out into the moonlight.
As he stepped out from the door a dark mass hurled itself at him, a hand clutched at his throat, missed as he swiftly dodged back, and carried away his collar. It was Perkins, his face distorted, his white teeth showing in a snarl as of a furious beast. Again with a beast-like growl he sprang, and again Cameron avoided him; while Perkins, missing his clutch, stumbled over a block of wood and went crashing head first among a pile of pots and pans and, still unable to recover himself and wildly grasping whatever chanced to be within reach, fell upon the board that stood against the corner of the porch to direct the rain into the tub; but the unstable board slid slowly down and allowed the unfortunate Perkins to come sitting in the tub full of water.
"Very neatly done, Perkins!" cried Cameron, whose anger at the furious attack was suddenly transformed into an ecstasy of delight at seeing the plight of his enemy.
Like a cat Perkins was on his feet and, without a single moment's pause, came on again in silent fury. By an evil chance there lay in his path the splitting axe, gleaming in the moonlight. Uttering a low choking cry, as of joy, he seized the axe and sprang towards his foe. Quicker than thought Cameron picked up a heavy arm chair that stood near the porch to use it as a shield against the impending attack.
"Are you mad, Perkins?" he cried, catching the terrific blow that came crashing down, upon the chair.
