“Git out of here!”
“Go for him, Pa. Throw him out.”
“Um ...” came a drawl from the door, and in swung old Goliath. “Jest try puttin’ that boy out, or the tother one, either,” says he, rolling up his sleeves, “an’ see what happens.”
“Who are you?” came the further thunder.
“Me?” and the giant posed like an old fool. “I’m jest little Red Riding Hood.”
“Are you the man who carried me to the barn?”
“Yep. An’ if Poppy says the word, I’ll carry you to the front door an’ chuck you clean into the road.”
Here another voice spoke up.
“Stop!—all of you,” cried Mrs. Doane, and the tired, defeated look on the woman’s thin white face hurt me like a knife jab. “I’ve come to the end of my rope.” She turned to Chew. “You have won out. I’m sorry. And I shall forever hold it against Corbin Danver for disinheriting his own kin. There were a few things here that I wanted myself,”—the poor old soul wiped her eyes—“but I can get along without them. What hurts me worse is Miss Ruth’s loss. She asked me to come here, and I did, and I’ve done everything I could to find her, and to help her. Now, I’m—I’m sick and weary of it all. I’m going to bed. If the rest of you want to go to bed, you’ll find plenty of rooms. In the morning I’ll pack up my things and go home.... Good night.”
Well, that sort of put an end to the scrap. But I’m not so sure that old Chew wouldn’t have dumped us out of the front door, all right, if it hadn’t been for Goliath. Yes, the giant saved us ... and afterwards we remembered it!