“What did you tell him that for?”
“Because it was true.”
“Supposing it was true, didn't you know that you were spoiling my trade?”
“I am sorry for that, Mr. Holden, but if he had bought the horse, supposing it to be gentle, it might have broken his wife's neck.”
“What business was that of yours? That was his lookout.”
“I didn't look upon it in that way. I thought he ought to buy the horse with his eyes open.”
“You did, did you?” roared Abner. “Then I advise you to open your own eyes, for you're going to get one of the worst lickings you ever had.”
Abner Holden's anger now reached an ungovernable pitch. Looking about him for a weapon, he espied the broom resting against the wall. He seized it, and with a scream of rage, made for Herbert, shaking off the grasp of the housekeeper, who tried to stay him.
Herbert, perceiving the peril in which he stood, ran round the table, which stood, with leaves open, in the middle of the floor. Abner pursued him with headlong haste.
“Lord preserve us! The man is mad!” ejaculated the housekeeper, trying to get out of the way. But in this she was not successful. The kitchen was small, and before she could guard against a collision, Abner had stumbled over Mrs. Bickford, and both came down together. She uttered a succession of piercing shrieks, and, with a view of relieving Herbert, pretended that her life was in danger, grasping Abner by the hair and holding him fast.