Jeff's voice (a little husky with restraint): “What is yer business?”
The stranger's voice (lazily): “It's an attachment on this yer property for principal, interest, and costs—one hundred and twelve dollars and' seventy-five cents, at the suit of Cyrus Parker.”
Jeff's voice (in quick surprise): “Parker? Why, I saw him only yesterday, and he agreed to wait a spell longer.”
The Stranger's voice: “Mebbee he did! Mebbee he heard afterwards suthin' about the goin's on up yar. Mebbee he heard suthin' o' property bein' converted into ready cash—sich property ez horses, guns, and sich! Mebbee he heard o' gay and festive doin's—chickin every day, fresh eggs, butcher's meat, port wine, and sich! Mebbee he allowed that his chances o' gettin' his own honest grub outer his debt was lookin' mighty slim! Mebbee” (louder) “he thought he'd ask the man who bought yer horse, and the man you pawned your gun to, what was goin' on! Mebbee he thought he'd like to get a holt a suthin' himself, even if it was only some of that yar chickin and port wine!”
Jeff's voice (earnestly and hastily): “They're not for me. I have a family boarding here, with a sick daughter. You don't think—”
The Stranger's voice (lazily): “I reckon! I seed you and her pre-ambulating down the hill, lockin' arms. A good deal o' style, Jeff—fancy! expensive! How does Aunt Sally take it?”
A slight shaking of the floor and window—a dead silence.
The Stranger's voice (very faintly): “For God's sake, let me up!”
Jeff's voice (very distinctly): “Another word! raise your voice above a whisper, and by the living G—”
Silence.