“That I do!” declared the parson, his eyes flashing. “Well, don’t you worry, Almira; it will be attended to.”
“He ought to be driven out of town—that old creature had,” cried his wife, with very red cheeks. “Everybody hates him. Now I hope this will make him leave Badgertown.”
“Softly there, Almira,” the parson patted one of the red cheeks. “Badgertown must be careful what it does. There are his poor wife and Matilda to consider.”
“Oh, I know it,” groaned Mrs. Henderson. “Well, do try and get Mrs. Pepper to let you fix the matter up.” She hurried over the old flat stone. There in the doorway stood Miss Jerusha.
“I sh’d think Adoniram had enough to do, without taking up with Mis Pepper’s troubles,” she said tartly.
“Oh, it’s his business to do what he can for Badgertown people, Jerusha,” said Mrs. Henderson.
“Badgertown people!” sniffed Miss Jerusha. She set her spectacles straighter, and glared at the parson’s wife. “You’ve all gone mad over that little brown house family,” she said. “For my part, I hate shiftless folks who expect to be looked out for all the while.”
“Don’t you ever call the little brown house people shiftless again in my presence.” The parson’s wife got as tall as she could, even up to her tiptoes. “Anybody with a heart would be sorry for that poor brave woman, and those dear children who are trying to help her. I can’t think, Jerusha, how you can be so—so—”
She left the last word to look out for itself, her voice trailing off. But she marched with a high head past the long angular figure, and the door of her husband’s study closed with a snap.
“Let me see ’em—let me see ’em!” Joel prancing around in the little brown house kitchen, stopped suddenly and twitched the small calico sleeve.