The thought made him stir restlessly about beneath
the sheets. "Damn women anyway," he muttered. To relieve his mind he
thought of other things. "I'll make out a deed and turn three of my farms
over to Clara," he decided shrewdly. "If things go wrong we won't be
entirely broke. I know Charlie Jacobs in the court-house over at the county
seat. I ought to be able to get a deed recorded without any one knowing it
if I oil Charlie's hand a little."
* * * * *
Clara's last two weeks in the Woodburn household were spent in the midst of
a struggle, no less intense because no words were said. Both Henderson
Wood, burn and his wife felt that Clara owed them an explanation of the
scene at the front door with Frank Metcalf. When she did not offer it they
were offended. When he threw open the door and confronted the two people,
the plow manufacturer had got an impression that Clara was trying to escape
Frank Metcalf's embraces. He told his wife that he did not think she was
to blame for the scene on the front porch. Not being the girl's father he
could look at the matter coldly. "She's a good girl," he declared. "That
beast of a Frank Metcalf is all to blame. I daresay he followed her home.
She's upset now, but in the morning she'll tell us the story of what
happened."
The days went past and Clara said nothing. During her last week in the
house she and the two older people scarcely spoke.
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