“It ain’t any doin’s of mine, marm,” he said. “Prob’ly a kinder or sweeter-tempered elephant than Imogene is has never teased for peanuts over a guard-rope. But it don’t improve no dispositions to be chased by a pack of goramuses—it wouldn’t improve your disposition, it wouldn’t improve mine.”
“Don’t you go to classin’ me with your menagerie, yourself included,” she snapped. “What I want to know is, who’s goin’ to pay me for the damage that’s been done here to-day? It ain’t goin’ to be no shillin’ and a thank-ye settlement, now, I can tell ye that.”
Hiram came out of the tie-up door and trudged forward a few steps.
“I’m a widder, but you needn’t think you are goin’ to jew me one cent’s wuth,” she flung at him.
“I’ve got forty thousand dollars in the bank, and I don’t care who knows the same,” retorted Hiram, “and I stand good for all bills incurred by me or Imogene—now don’t you forget that for a second.”
He started across the yard toward the widow, for this arm’s-length conversation, with so many eavesdroppers, annoyed him. The persecuted Imogene had been trying to squeeze through the narrow alley from the barn floor. Now that she had recovered her friend and defender she did not propose to lose him again. With an eagerness candid and child-like, she sought safety at his side.
“I want you to understand that though I’m a widder I ain’t without friends and protectors,” said Mrs. Snell. “The bill for damages will be sent to Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish, at P’lermo, and he’ll have full power to act for me. And now if you’ll take your el’phunt in tow and git off my primises I’ll be much obleeged to you. I’ve been through all I want to for one day.”
The name of Bodfish acted on the showman almost galvanically.
“Him,” he muttered, “settle with him? Not by a——”
He strode across the yard.