was turned.




CHAPTER XII

ELIZABETH'S DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE


Mrs. Brady was at the wash-tub again when her most uncommon and unexpected
grandchild burst into the room.

She wiped her hands on her apron, and sat down with her usual exclamation,
"Fer the land sakes! What's happened? Bessie, tell me quick. Is anything
the matter with Lizzie? Where is she?"

But Elizabeth was on the floor at her feet in tears. She was shaking with
sobs, and could scarcely manage to stammer out that Lizzie was all right.
Mrs. Brady settled back with a relieved sigh. Lizzie was the first
grandchild, and therefore the idol of her heart. If Lizzie was all right,
she could afford to be patient and find out by degrees.

"It's that awful man, grandmother!" Elizabeth sobbed out.

"What man? That feller in Montana you run away from?" The grandmother sat
up with snapping eyes. She was not afraid of a man, even if he did shoot
people. She would call in the police and protect her own flesh and blood.
Let him come. Mrs. Brady was ready for him.