“Dirty little huzzy!” and ground his straggling teeth as he thought of it.
After Nathan and Susan Hornby had turned into the main road, John walked slowly back to the house.
“What’d I say that Mrs. Hornby didn’t like?” he asked, as he entered the kitchen where Elizabeth was preparing the supper which Nathan had declined to stay and eat.
Elizabeth’s brow was drawn into a puckered wrinkle. She followed her own laborious thinking, unaware that her husband had spoken.
“What’d I say that riled Mrs. Hornby?” he repeated.
Elizabeth heard the question now and looked up. It was hard to answer. To mention the tone in which he had spoken of Luther was useless she knew. Her hesitancy annoyed her husband.
“Well, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing—that is——” Elizabeth could not discuss it.
John Hunter resented her silence. He turned without speaking and picked up the water pail quickly. John heaped coals of fire by performing household duties.