I jumped—really I did—for it was as though she had let a gun off in my face. I had never heard such a voice. Vinegary? Well!
I curled my fingers around my chin and looked at the dog. His fiery eye had not wavered. Then I looked at the cat—for in that moment I was firmly convinced this old beldam was a cat. Her mouth had squared into yet firmer lines, and her brow had grown portentous. Still her needles fussed about the half-made sock in her yellowish hands, and her gaze was down, as before.
"Do the—"
I started to ask if people by their name lived here, but when I came to the name I could not supply it; I had never heard it. I stammered, coughed, then knew that a pair of fierce little green eyes were flashing at me.
"Air yo' a plum' fule? Whur air yo' wits 'n' yo' tongue 'n' yo' commin sinse? Can't yo' tell a body whut yo' want wi'out stam'rin' 'n' stutt'rin' 'n' takin' all th' day? Folks as has got work to do ain't got no time to waste on tramps 'n' sich! Talk!"
Like a cyclone this tirade enveloped me, bursting upon my ears in a high, rasping voice which dragged on my nerves after the manner of a file.
I became desperate. This old virago should not oust me. I thrust my body forward, and, chin out, replied with some heat:
"Is this where Granny, and Granf'er, and Lessie live? That's what I want to know?"
"Land sakes! Jony 'n' th' w'ale!... Air you him?"
Her hands dropped in her lap; she cocked her head and viewed me afresh.