"I mought skeer her off'n her nest," his wife remonstrated.
But the imperious invalid insisted. She rose reluctantly, and as she stepped off the porch she cast an imploring glance at Cynthia.
The girl was trembling. The mere mention of the deed to its victim had unnerved her. She felt it was perhaps a safe transition from the subject to talk about the idiot brother. "I hev hearn folks 'low ez 'Lijah oughter be locked up, but I dunno," she said.
The man fixed a concentrated gaze upon her. "Waal, ain't he?"
"'Lijah ain't locked up," she faltered, bewildered.
His face fell. Unaccountably enough, his pride seemed grievously cut down.
"Waal, 'Lijah ain't 'sponsible, I know," he reasoned; "but bein' ez he treated me this way, an' me a important off'cer o' the law, 'pears-like 'twould a-been more respec'ful ef they hed committed him ter jail ez insane, or sent him ter the 'sylum,—fur they take some crazies at the State's expense." He paused thoughtfully. He was mortified, hurt. "But shucks!" he exclaimed presently, "let him treat haffen the county ez he done me, ef he wants ter. I ain't a-keerin'."
Cynthia's head was awhirl. She could hardly credit her senses.
"How war it that 'Lijah treated you-uns?" she gasped.
In his turn he stared, amazed.