"Well, I never!" gasped Mrs. Fishley.
Captain Fishley evidently believed that his wife was lame; but this did not make much difference to him. He was a tyrant and a bully; but, as tyrants and bullies always are, he was a coward, or he would have demolished me before this time. He had a wholesome respect for the poker, which I still kept in readiness for immediate use.
"No matter whether Mrs. Fishley touched the child or not," said he, savagely. "No boy in my house shall insult my wife, or raise his hand against her."
"And no man or woman, in this or any other house, shall raise his hand against my sister," I answered.
"She sat there like a log of wood, and let the flapjacks burn," snarled Mrs. Fishley.
"She hadn't anything to do with the flapjacks. Flora boards here, and isn't anybody's servant," I replied.
"I should like to know! Is that girl to sit there before the fire and let whatever's on the stove burn up before she'll raise her hand to save it?"
"It's no use of talking," said I. "You know all about it as well as I do. All I have to say is, that Flora shall not be abused by anybody, I don't care who it is."
"Nobody's going to abuse her," snapped the shrew.
"I've got another account to settle with you, Buck Bradford," continued Captain Fishley. "Did Ham tell you to black his boots?"