"Like a panther with his teeth pulled," said a woman who stood by the counter, buying a spool of thread. "Ain't you heard how they made up?"
"Land sakes, no!" said the sister Lize, hurriedly finishing a stitch and then halting her fingers to pull the yarn.
The shopkeeper began rolling ribbons with a look of indifference. She never took part in the gossip and, although she loved to hear it, had, mostly, the air of one without ears.
"Well, that old tinker gave 'em both a good talking to," said the customer. "He brings 'em face to face, and he says to him, says he, 'In the day o' the Judgment God'll mind the look o' your wife,' and then he says the same to her."
"Singular man!" said the comely sister Lize, who now resumed her knitting.
"He never robbed that bank, either, any more 'n I did."
"Men ain't apt to claim a sin that don't belong to 'em—that's my opinion."
"He did it to shield another."
"Sidney Trove?" was the half-whispered query of the sister Lize.
"Trove, no!" said the other, quickly. "It was that old man with a gray beard who never spoke to anybody an' used to visit the tinker."