“Well ’er,” Oscar fingered his worn cap nervously. “Miss Susan, she didn’t think much of some of Miss Kitty’s beaux—jes’ didn’t want her to get married nohow—’specially that there Major Wallace. An’ she ups an’ tells Miss Kitty she mus’ get rid o’ him, or she would—”
“Would what—?”
“Git rid o’ him,” explained Oscar. “Miss Susan jes’ despised him, even if he did lay himself out to please her.”
“Was Major Wallace there on Sunday?” inquired the coroner.
“No, Sah.” With vigorous emphasis. “The Major ain’t been there for mos’ two weeks. Miss Susan and him had words.”
“Ah, indeed. When?”
“’Bout two weeks ago, p’r’aps longer. Major Wallace kep’ callin’, an’ Miss Susan up an’ tole him Miss Kitty couldn’t be bothered with his company.” Oscar came to a breathless pause. He had caught sight of a man leaving his seat and recognized Major Leigh Wallace. The next second the door had opened and closed behind Wallace’s retreating figure.
Penfield’s stern voice recalled Oscar’s wandering wits.
“Did you do the marketing on Saturday, Oscar?” he asked.
“Yes, Sah.” Oscar spoke more cheerfully at the change of the topic.