“Mrs. Trafton,” said Nahum Jones, highly irritated, “you’d better silence that young cub or I may kick him out of doors!”
“You appear to forget that you are not in your own house, Nahum Jones,” said the widow with dignity. “My nephew has acted perfectly right and only spoke as he should.”
“So you sustain him in his impudence, do you?” snarled Jones, showing his teeth.
“If that is all you have come to say to me, Mr. Jones, you may as well go.”
“By George, ma’am, you are mighty independent!”
“I am not dependent on the man who ruined my poor husband.”
“No, but you’re dependent on me!” exclaimed the landlord, pounding the floor forcibly with his cane.
“Will you explain yourself, sir?”
“I will,” said Mr. Jones emphatically. “You talk about my not being in my own house, but it’s just possible you are mistaken.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Trafton, startled.