"Well, these girls ain't your company," returned the old woman. "Now! get up and be off. Get out of the way."
Crab rose, surlily enough, but his sharp eyes sought Nita. He looked her all over, as though she were some strange object that he had never seen before.
"So you air the gal they brought ashore off the lumber schooner last night?" he asked her.
"Yes, I am," she returned, flatly.
"You ain't got no folks around here; hev ye?" he continued.
"No, I haven't."
"What's your name?"
"Puddin' Tame!" retorted Mercy, breaking in, in her shrill way. "And she lives in the lane, and her number's cucumber! There now! do you know all you want to know, Hardshell?"
Crab growled something under his breath and went off in a hangdog way.
"That's a bad man," said Mercy, with confidence. "And he's much interested in you, Miss Nita Anonymous. Do you know why?"
"I'm sure I don't," replied Nita, laughing quite as sharply as before, but helping the lame girl to the buckboard with kindliness.
"You look out for him, then," said Mercy, warningly. "He's a hardshell crab, all right.
