“He had a hoe and I hadn’t anything,” answered Andrew meekly. “He was so furious that he wouldn’t have made anything of killing me.”
“I always thought he was rather mild and milk-and-watery,” said Nathan Badger thoughtfully.
“You wouldn’t have thought so if you’d seen him, Mr. Badger,” said his wife, drawing upon her imagination. “He looked like a young fiend. Dear Andrew is right. The boy is positively dangerous! I don’t know but we shall be murdered in our beds some night if we let him go on this way.”
Mr. Badger shrugged his shoulders, for he was not quite a fool, and answered dryly:
“That thought won’t keep me awake. He isn’t that kind of a boy.”
“Oh, well, Mr. Badger, if you are going to take his part against your own flesh and blood, I’ve got no more to say.”
“Who’s taking his part?” retorted Mr. Badger sharply. “I’m not going to uphold him in attacking Andrew, but I’m rather surprised at his mustering spunk enough to do it. As for his doing us any harm, that’s all nonsense.”
“You may change your mind when it’s too late, Mr. Badger.”
“Are you afraid of him?” asked her husband contemptuously as he regarded the tall, muscular figure of his wife, who probably would have been a match for himself in physical strength.
“I can defend myself if I am awake,” said Mrs. Badger. “But what’s to hinder his attacking me when I’m asleep?”