“Now then, Abel Crew, what do you mean by selling pills to poison people?” demanded he, pushing back the door with a bang, and stepping in fiercely. Duffham, foreseeing there was going to be a contest, and having no time to waste, took his departure.
“I have not sold pills to poison people,” replied Abel.
“Look here,” said Dovey, folding his black arms. “Be you going to eat them pills, or be you not? Come!”
“What do you mean, Dovey?”
“What do I mean! Ain’t my meaning plain? Do you own to having selled a box of pills to Hester Reed last winter?—be you thinking to eat that there fact, and deny of it? Come, Abel Crew!”
“I remember it well,” readily spoke up Abel. “Mrs. Reed came here one day, complaining that her head ached continually, and her side often had a dull pain in it, and asked me to give her something. I did so; I gave her a box of pills. It was early in January, I think. I know there was ice on the ground.”
“Then do you own to them pills,” returned Dovey, more quietly, his fierceness subdued by Abel’s civility. “It were you that furnished ’em?”
“I furnished the box of pills I speak of, that Hester Reed had from me in the winter. There’s no mistake about that.”
“And made ’em too?”
“Yes, and made them.”