"I'd cut thar hearts out," he said, with prompt barbarity.
"Thar, now!" exclaimed his wife, in triumphant logic.
He gloomily eyed the smouldering coals. He was beginning to understand the paternal sentiment. By his own heart he was learning the heart of his wife's father.
"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 uncomprehended force brought to oppress old Joel Quimbey; 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'."