“Why not! Do you s'pose I'd use the money that belonged to the husband that run off and left me? I ain't that kind of a woman. The money and stocks are at the bank yet, I s'pose; anyhow they're there for all of me.”
The lightkeeper's mouth opened and stayed open for seconds before he could use it as a talking machine. He could scarcely believe what he had heard.
“But—but I wanted you to have it,” he gasped. “I left it for you.”
“Well, I didn't take it; 'tain't likely!” with fiery indignation. “Did you think I could be bought off like a—a mean—oh, I don't know what?”
“But—but I left it at the bank—for you. What—what'll I do with it?”
“I don't know, I'm sure. You might give it to Sarah Ann Christy; I wouldn't wonder if she was less particular than I be.”
Seth's guns were spiked, for the moment. He felt the blood rush to face, and his fists, as he brandished them in the air, trembled.
“I—I—you—you—” he stammered. “I—I—you think I—”
He knew that his companion would regard his agitation as an evidence of conscious guilt, and this knowledge did not help to calm him. He strode up and down the floor.
“Look out,” said Mrs. Bascom, coldly, “you'll kick over the lantern.”