“I speak loud because I want people to hear me!” roared Uncle Abel, turning on him.
“Go on, Uncle Abel,” said Mary, “tell me what you mean.”
“I mean,” said Uncle Abel, lowering his voice a little, “that I seen Harry Dale and Bertha Buckolt at Buckolts’ Gate that night—I seen it all—”
“At Buckolts’ Gate!” cried Mary.
“Yes! at Buckolts’ Gate! Ain’t I speakin’ loud enough?”
“And where were you?”
“Never mind wheers I was. I was comin’ home along the ridges, and I seen them. I seen them say good-bye; I seen them hug an’ kiss—”
“Uncle Abel!” exclaimed Aunt Emma.
“It’s no use Uncle Abelin’ me. What I sez I sez. I ain’t a-goin’ to have a niece of mine bungfoodled—”
“Uncle Abel,” cried Mary, staring at him wild-eyed, “do be careful what you say. You must have made a mistake. Are you sure it was Bertha and Harry?”