Wood. He could scarcely blame her. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. "You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally.
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