“Yes; and cry for more.”
“Then I will not urge you,” replied Miss Eliot, “although I would be willing to pay you twenty cents, myself. I know your eggs are quite fresh, which is not always the case with those obtained from the grocer.”
“I don’t want your money,” observed the woman, in a disagreeable tone. “I won’t touch your money. Mr. Eliot allows you house room out of charity, but he desires no communication, of any sort, between the two families.”
“How do you know that?” inquired Judith, looking at the old servant, steadily.
“He has told me so.”
“You know very well that he is incapable of speech.”
“Do I? That shows your ignorance, Judith Eliot. Your uncle can speak when he wants to, and speak to some purpose. His mind isn’t paralyzed, I assure you, and he is competent to direct his own affairs.”
“I cannot believe it,” persisted Judith.
The woman looked at her defiantly.
“Call in the law, if you want to,” she said; “I’d be glad to have you do it. Mr. Eliot can prove his mental condition in court, and his right to manage his own property. But if you put him to that trouble he’ll turn out the whole tribe of you, as sure as my name’s Elaine Halliday!”