“Because Mrs. Lloyd had not visited you till to-night.”
“But what had her visit to do with you?”
“Everything; ’cause she come to tell you a tale ’bout me.”
“I fear, Molly, she has a very just cause of complaint, against you especially, if reports be true.”
“Bad luck to her, and all she has, Mr. Jones!”
“Withdraw that word this moment, Molly; or,” his piercing eye being fixed on the woman, which appeared to enter her soul, “I must use my power—that is, I must request you to leave my house this instant.”
“But don’t you think she was a hard-hearted woman not to give a poor body a dhrop of buttermilk?”
“I can’t say that, Molly; but if she be hard-hearted, there is no reason why any one should wish her ill. I must, therefore, insist on your withdrawing your wish.”
“If I do so, Mister Jones, it wonnot be for her, but for your sake, who has always been kind to me.”
“You have spoken like a sensible woman, Molly. I have one more request to make, Mrs. McGee; that is, promise me you won’t go near Mrs. Lloyd again.”