“Say, what ails you?” asked Jard. “You act like you’d been up an’ roustin’ round all night.”
“It’s your fine fresh air,” replied Vane, sliding reluctantly out of bed.
He breakfasted in the kitchen, but not a word did he say of the night’s activities. He was told that McPhee had already called to say that young Steve Dangler had already been in from Goose Creek with a message from old Luke Dangler to old Dave Hinch. The gist of the message was that Granddaughter Joe should remain where she was for as long as Grandpa Dangler chose to keep her and if Grandpa Hinch didn’t like it the only thing left for him to do was to lump it.
“It wasn’t eight o’clock, but Steve was slewed already,” concluded Jard.
“It’s a cruel, cryin’ shame and disgrace!” exclaimed Miss Hassock. “Dave Hinch is a crooked old sinner and mean company for a girl like Joe—but those Danglers are downright low. They’ll marry her to that swillin’, bullyin’ rapscallion Steve, you see if they don’t; and not a man hereabouts man enough to raise a hand!”
“What’s his tipple?” asked Vane. “I thought this country was dry. Surely he is not drinking lemon extract—and alive to show it? You used the word swilling.”
“He’s a hog, that’s why—whatever the stuff in his trough may be,” retorted Liza.
Jard winked at Vane. “You don’t have to drink lemon extract round here nowadays, nor ain’t for nigh onto two years,” he said. “There’s real liquor—so I hear—to be had for eight dollars a bottle, an’ somethin’ that acts a darn sight more real for half the price. All you need’s the money an’ the high sign.”
“And the law?”
“Law!” exclaimed Miss Hassock in a voice of angry derision. “Law! With Danglers to bust it an’ a bunch of cowards an’ live-an’-let-livers to look on, what’s the good of a law?”