Brossard was calling angrily for Jules now, and she struck another match in nervous haste, this time touching the wick with it before the wind could interfere.

Then she drew her dress over the lantern to hide the light.
"Wouldn't Jack enjoy this," she thought, with a daring little giggle that almost betrayed her hiding-place.
"I tell thee it is thy fault," cried Brossard's angry voice, drawing nearer the barn.
"But I tried," began Jules, timidly.
His trembling excuse was interrupted by Brossard, who had seized him by the arm.

They were now on the threshold of the barn, which was as dark as a pocket inside.
Joyce, peeping through the crack of the door, saw the man's arm raised in the dim twilight outside.

"Oh, he is really going to beat him," she thought, turning faint at the prospect.

Then her indignation overcame every other feeling as she heard a heavy halter-strap whiz through the air and fall with a sickening blow across Jules's shoulders.