"What do you mean?" asked Justine. A strange chill seized her heart—a fear for Jud.
"He's been very unwise to say the things he has. I tole Jim Hardesty ef they ever got to Jed's ears 'Gene 'd pay purty dearly fer them. But Jim says 'twouldn't be good fer Jed ef he tackled 'Gene. He's wuss'n pison."
"Why, Mrs. Hardesty, I don't—I don't know what you're talking about," cried the poor girl. "What has 'Gene been saying?"
"Oh, it wouldn't be right fer me to git mixed up in it. It's none o' my funeral," said Mrs. Hardesty, now in the full delight of keeping a listener tortured with suspense. It was a quarter of an hour before she could be induced to relate the very tales she had come to tell in the first place.
"'Gene tole the boys that night that he'd made love to you ever sence you was children and that he could tell Jed Sherrod some things ef he was a mind to. He said he could take you away from him any time, an' that Jed 'd have to stay 'roun' home purty close ef he wanted to be sure o' you."
"Oh, oh, oh!" moaned the dumfounded girl.
"An' then he went on to say that you'd promised to—to—well—well, to leave Jed some time an' go away with him. That's the mildest way to put it. I couldn't say it the way 'Gene did. Don't look so put-out about it, Jestine—really, you look like you want to faint. Shell I git you some water?"
"Did—did he say all of that?" Justine whispered hoarsely.
"Yes, he did. I heered him. I was in the house an'——"
"Mrs. Hardesty, don't tell me any more. I cannot bear it. How could he have said it—how could he have been so mean?" she wailed, struggling to her feet.