There was a pause. Then Tommy said, with that delightful tact which usually characterizes young Tommies:
“Well, Mary needn’t be so cocky about Harry Dale, anyhow. I seen him New Year’s Eve when we had the dance. I seen him after the dance liftin’ Bertha Buckolt onter her horse in the dark—as if she couldn’t get on herself—she’s big enough. I seen him lift her on, an’ he took her right up an’ lifted her right inter the saddle, ’stead of holdin’ his hand for her to tread on like that new-chum jackaroo we had. An’, what’s more, I seen him hug her an’ give her a kiss before he lifted her on. He told her he was as good as her brother.”
“What did he mean by that, Tommy?” asked Mrs Porter, to break an awkward pause.
“How’m I ter know what he means?” said Tommy, politely.
“And, Tommy, I seen Harry Dale give young Tommy Carey a lick with a strap the day before New Year’s Eve for throwing his sister’s cat into the dam,” said Aunt Emma, coming to poor Mary’s rescue. “Never mind, Mary, my dear, he said goodbye to you last.”
“No, he didn’t!” roared Uncle Abel.
They were used to Uncle Abel’s sudden bellowing, but it startled them this time.
“Why, Uncle Abel,” cried both Aunt Emma and Mrs Carey, “whatever do you mean?”
“What I means is that I ain’t a-goin’ to have the feelin’s of a niece of mine trifled with. What I means is that I seen Harry Dale with Bertha Buckolt on New Year’s night after he left here. That’s what I means—”
“Don’t speak so loud, Abel, we’re not deaf,” interrupted Carey, as Mary started up white-faced. “What do you want to always shout for?”