"Christian duty?" Papa had to grab his glass of water and take a gulp to keep from choking on the biscuit he was eating.
"We can't let old Miss Dink and Ophelia and them nine young'uns suffer! Vic took vittles to them Wednesday, and she said they're on starvation—not a crumb in the kitchen! No bread, no meat, just nothing."
Papa put down his knife and fork. "Nannie, it ain't my Christian duty to feed the family of a sorry, no-'count sot who nearly beat me to death, then burned down my store and kidnapped my baby! And he ain't through yet! He'll poison our livestock or—"
"But, Jodie! The poor little young'uns! They can't help it! They—"
"All right! All right! I'll hitch up the buggy and take you—this one time. I declare, womenfolks don't look at things like men do. You see Christian duty where all I see is plain, hard facts!"
It was rather late when we got to Miss Ophelia's place. We didn't see anybody on the porch, in the hall, or anywhere. But there was a little streak of smoke rising from one chimney. Papa hitched Dale close to the yard gate, and we sat in the buggy to wait while Mama went inside with her box of eggs and butter and stuff.
We'd been there a few minutes when Papa noticed two people coming up the trail from Ned's house.
"Looks like two women, Bandershanks."
"It's Shoogie! And Doanie! Papa, lem'me run to meet them!"
"All right."