He heard voices from below.
“I don’t care if I’d killed him! Wish’t I had! Lea’ me alone—for two cents I’d go drown myself! Look at them plates! You’ve broke the two blue pattern ones an’ the chaney one with the bird on it, the best we had, an’ not a cracked one touched! Hain’t you no sense?”
“Never you mind; I’ll get you some more.”
“I’m not wanting more. Them plates were mother’s—much you care! I’ve gone as careful as walking on eggs with them, and now they’re broke an’ the old Delf’ ones left. If you must be breaking and cutting up, couldn’t you a broke the cracked ones? An’ where’s the sense in breaking them anyhow?”
“Waal, I reckoned it’d liven you up hearin’ the crockery goin’.”
“Liven me up! Makes me believe you have been getting at the rum to hear you talk. Where’s the sense in all your doings,—ship stinking of drink and all the crockery broke, and what’s the use?”
“I’ll show you after dark. I tell you I want to get away from those thugs, and if I hadn’t headed them off pretendin’ to be drunk they’d have gone through me.”
“Well, they’ll go through you right enough tomorrow morning.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Which way?”