“Just exactly like Jubiter—so they say; used to was, anyway, but he hain’t been seen for seven years. He got to robbing when he was nineteen or twenty, and they jailed him; but he broke jail and got away—up North here, somers. They used to hear about him robbing and burglaring now and then, but that was years ago. He’s dead, now. At least that’s what they say. They don’t hear about him any more.”
“What was his name?”
“Jake.”
There wasn’t anything more said for a considerable while; the old lady was thinking. At last she says:
“The thing that is mostly worrying your aunt Sally is the tempers that that man Jubiter gets your uncle into.”
Tom was astonished, and so was I. Tom says:
“Tempers? Uncle Silas? Land, you must be joking! I didn’t know he had any temper.”
“Works him up into perfect rages, your aunt Sally says; says he acts as if he would really hit the man, sometimes.”
“Aunt Polly, it beats anything I ever heard of. Why, he’s just as gentle as mush.”
“Well, she’s worried, anyway. Says your uncle Silas is like a changed man, on account of all this quarreling. And the neighbors talk about it, and lay all the blame on your uncle, of course, because he’s a preacher and hain’t got any business to quarrel. Your aunt Sally says he hates to go into the pulpit he’s so ashamed; and the people have begun to cool toward him, and he ain’t as popular now as he used to was.”