“I'd chop 'em inter minch-meat,” he continued, carrying his just reprisals a step further.
“Waal, don't do it right now,” said his wife, trying to laugh, yet vaguely frightened by his vehemence.
“Eveliny,” he cried, springing to his feet, “I be a-goin' ter tell ye all 'bout'n it. I jes called on the cheerman fur the law agin him.”
“Agin dad!—the law!”' Her voice dropped as she contemplated aghast this terrible unapprehended force brought to oppress old Joel Quim-bey; she felt a sudden poignant pang for his forlorn and lonely estate.
“Never mind, never mind, Eveliny,” Absalom said, hastily, repenting of his frantic candor and seeking to soothe her.
“I will mind,” she said, sternly. “What hev ye done ter dad?”
“Nuthin',” he replied, sulkily—“nuthin'.”
“Ye needn't try ter fool me, Abs'lom Kittredge. Ef ye ain't minded ter tell me, I'll foot it down ter town an' find out. What did the law do ter him?”
“Jes fined him,” he said, striving to make light of it.
“An' ye done that fur—spite!” she cried. “A-set-tin' the law ter chouse a old man out'n money, fur gittin' mad an' sayin' ye stole his only darter. Oh, I'll answer fur him”—she too had risen; her hand trembled on the back of the chair, but her face was scornfully smiling—“he don't mind the money; he'll never git you-uns fined ter pay back the gredge. He don't take his wrath out on folkses' wallets; he grips thar throats, or teches the trigger o' his rifle. Laws-a-massy! takin' out yer gredge that-a-way! It's ye poorer fur them dollars, Abs'lom—'tain't him.” She laughed satirically, and turned to rock the cradle.