"I can't always manage to be at home when folks come a-visiting," he said in his gruff, tangled voice.
"You was at church on Sabbath when Mr. Turnbull gave out the pastoral visitations: he knew that as well as I did. I couldn't say a word to-day. I just had to set here and take it."
"No, you didn't, Matilda: you didn't have to stay any more than I did."
"Elick!"
The woman's voice had a sharp reproof in it. He had touched the Calvinistic quick. She might not reverence the man, but the minister was sacred.
"Well, I can't help it," persisted her husband obstinately. "You can take what you please off him. I don't want him to say anything to me."
"Oh, he didn't say anything, Elick. What was there to say?"
"He doesn't gener'ly keep still because he has nothin' to say."
The man gave a muffled, explosive laugh, and pushed back his chair. Mrs. Randall's eyelids reddened. She laid down her work and got up.
"I guess I'll take off this dress before I clear up the things," she said, in a voice of temporary defeat.