“Squire Phin, you’ve known me from a little snippet, and you know I ain’t flyin’ off to no tangents without good reason. It ain’t no one night’s growth, this ain’t. I’m going to have a bill from that man, I say! The neighbours ain’t goin’ to have a chance to say I’ve backed down. If you don’t want to take the case, then out with it, bus’nesslike, and I’ll go farther. But that di-vose I’m goin’ to have!”
There was no gainsaying her angry obstinacy.
“Well, Esther,” he said with a sigh, “leave the papers and I’ll have notice of the libel served.”
“When? There can’t be no more fubbin’. The neighbours are all stirred up, and I’ve made my talk!”
“To-morrow.”
“So do! And I’ll plan according,” she snapped, and with lips set tight she left the room.
The Squire slowly filled his pipe, his eyes fixed in unblinking stare on a far corner.
“Neighbours!” he snorted. “Poor little gaffer of a girl, and the whole of ’em pecking at her!”
He aimlessly searched for a match in his pockets, his eyes still on the corner.
“Oh, Sylvie,” he murmured, “they are just ready to bury their beaks in you if you step between—oh-h-h!”