"I never did. Even if I had I wouldn't allow a comparative stranger to apply such an epithet to a member of my family."
"You did say it. And she ain't a member of your family."
Tom's jaws snapped. "If patience is a virtue," he declared, in quivering anger, "I'll slide into heaven on skids. Assassination ought not to be a crime; it's warranted, like abating a nuisance; it ain't even a misdemeanor—sometimes. She was a noble woman—"
"Hellion! I got it on the authority of her own husband—you!"
Tom rose and stamped over to the stove; he slammed its door and clattered the coffee-pot to drown this hateful persistence. Having had the last word, as usual, Jerry retreated in satisfaction to his bed and stretched his aching frame upon it.
The dingy cabin was fragrant with the odor of cooking food for a second time that evening when the sound of voices and a knock at the door brought both old men to their feet.
Before they could answer, the door flew open and in and out of the frosty evening came Rouletta Kirby and 'Poleon Doret. The girl's cheeks were rosy, her eyes were sparkling; she warmly greeted first one partner, then the other. Pausing, she sniffed the air hungrily.
"Goody!" she cried. "We're just in time. And we're as hungry as bears."
"Dis gal 'ain't never got 'nough to eat since she's seeck in W'ite
'Orse," 'Poleon laughed. "For las' hour she's been sayin': 'Hurry!
Hurry! We goin' be late.' I 'mos' keel dem dog."
Linton's seamed face softened; it cracked into a smile of genuine pleasure; there was real hospitality and welcome in his voice when he said: