'He d-d-did!' shouted Pete. 'We never knowed much more arter 'Cajah an' the dep'ty kem 'n we did afore. Pa'son said they'd gird him an' t-t-take him whar he didn't want ter g-go—an' so they d-d-d-did.'
'D-d-did what?' mockingly demanded Amos James, with unnecessary rancour, it might have seemed.
Pete's infirmity became more pronounced under this cavalier treatment.
'T-t-take him w-w-w-whar he didn't w-w-w-want'—explosively—'ter go, ye fool!'
'Whar?'
'D'ye reckon that he wanted ter go ter jail in Shaftesville?' demanded Pete, with scathing scorn.
His sneering lip exposed his long, protruding teeth, and his hard-featured face was unusually repellant.
'Hev they tuk him ter jail—the pa'son—Pa'son Kelsey?' exclaimed Amos James, in a deeply serious tone.
He looked fixedly at Pete, as if he might thus express more than he said in words. There was indignation in his black eyes, even reproach. He still leaned on the hopper, but there was nothing between the stones, for he had forgotten to pour in more corn, and the industrious flurry of the unsentient old mill was like the bustle of many clever people—a great stir about nothing. He wore his broad-brimmed white hat far back on his head. His black hair was sprinkled with flour and meal, and along the curves of his features the snowy flakes had congregated in thin lines, bringing out the olive tint of his complexion, and intensifying the sombre depths of his eyes.
Pete returned the allusion to his defective speech by a comment on the intentness of the miller's gaze.