Like all bullies, Mr Benden was a coward. With a woman of Tabitha’s type he had never before had to deal at such close quarters. Alice either yielded to his wishes, or stood quietly firm, and generally silent. He began to feel considerable alarm. Tabitha was a powerful woman, and he was a man of only moderate strength. Briton’s Mead was not within call of any other house, and its master had an unpleasant conviction that to summon Mary to his aid would not improve his case. It was desirable to compromise with Tabitha. The only way that he could see to do it was to deny his action. If he did commit a sin in speaking falsely, he said to himself, it was Tabitha’s fault for forcing him to it, and Father Bastian would absolve him easily, considering the circumstances.
“No, Tabitha; I did not say a word to the Bishop.”
“You expect me to believe you, after all that fencing and skulking under hedges? Then I don’t. If you’d said it fair out at first, well—may be I might, may be I mightn’t. But I don’t now, never a whit. And I think you’d best eat the succade I brought you. I believe you demerit it; and if you don’t, you soon will, or I’m a mistaken woman, and I’m not apt to be that,” concluded Mistress Tabitha, with serene consciousness of virtue.
“Tabitha, my dear sister, I do ensure you—”
“You’d best ensure me of nothing, my right undear brother. Out on your snaky speeches and beguiling ways! You’ll have your succade, and I’ll leave you to digest it, and much good may it do you!”
And he had it. After which transaction Mistress Tabitha went home, and slept all the better for the pleasing remembrance that she had horsewhipped Mr Edward Benden.