"I will talk that over with your mother." Jerome looked at him.

There was a dreadful expression on his little boyish face.

His very lips were white.

"You are goin' to take our woodland for rents ?" "If you can't pay them, of course.

Your mother ought to be glad she has it to pay with." "Then we sha'n't have anything." Doctor Prescott endeavored to move on, but Jerome fairly crowded himself between him and the door, and stood there, his pale face almost touching his breast, and his black eyes glaring up at him with a startling nearness as of fire.
"You are a wicked man," said the boy, "and some day God will punish you for it." Then there came a grasp of nervous hands upon his shoulders, like the clamp of steel, the door was opened before him, and he was pushed out, and along the entry at arm's-length, and finally made to descend the south door-steps at a dizzy run.