"I've somethin' also to say to Gilly Cheel. I ain't goin' to have the Punch-Bowl made a Devil's cauldron of wi' his quarrels—"
"Hear, hear," from Betsy Cheel.
"And unless he lives peaceable, and don't trouble me wi' his noise and she wi' her cattewawlin'."
"That's for you," said Jamaica, and nudged his wife.
"I'll turn 'em both out," proceeded Jonas. "For I've been gettin' his papers into my hands also. And then, as to the Boxalls—"
The members of that clan now looked blank. Consternation was spreading to all at table.
"As to the Boxalls," continued Jonas, "if their time hasn't come just yet, it's comin'. I hope, neighbors and friends all, you've enjyed the dessert."
A dead silence ensued. Every one felt that it would be better to be in the power of a lawyer than of Bideabout.
Tears of mortification and resentment rose in the eyes of Sally
Rocliffe. Mehetabel hung her head in shame.
Then Thomas, stolid and surly, flung a letter across the table to the Broom-Squire. "Take that," he said, "I don't wan't to be burdened with nothin' of your'n. 'Tis a letter been lyin' at the post for you, and Mistress Chivers gave it me. Wish I wos rid of everything atwixt us as I be of that there letter now."