Now, young imp!" cried Joe,
turning to Mariquita, "stir yourself, and let us get out this batch of
bread."
The conversation which she had overheard, conveying as it did the
confirmation of her worst fears, had agitated Mariquita exceedingly,
but she knew that she must control her emotion, and arouse no
suspicions in the minds of these villains. Benito, wounded, and in
desperate case, was in no position to recognise her, and Joe was, of
course, completely in the dark as to whom he had admitted within his
shop.
The work in the cellar was not completed and the bread carried
upstairs for an hour or more, during which time Mariquita was able to
think over and decide what she would do. She had matured her plan when
they got upstairs.
"Pay me!" she said, saucily, to Valetta Joe. "I shan't stop here."
"Pay you, vile imp? Why, I only took you on trial!"
"Pay me!" she repeated. "You shan't cheat me."
"I owe you nothing. Be off out of this or you shall feel the weight of
my hand."
"Pay me, you swindling old rogue!" shouted Mariquita, in a shrill
voice. "I won't go till I get my rights."
"You won't!" cried Joe, as he seized her roughly by the collar and
dragged her towards the door.
"Villain! Thief! Murder! Help, help! He is killing me!" cried
Mariquita, now at the top of her voice, and this frenzied appeal had
the exact effect she hoped.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329