"We ain't seen him all day," said Grandfather McKim. "He's took all of a sudden to larnin' how to snowshoe, an' I reckon he be out rollickin' round somewheres on his webs this very minute."
At that moment, the door opened and old Widow Wilson from Kingswood Settlement entered the kitchen with her staff and her basket and her single-barreled shotgun wrapped up in a shawl. She was cordially welcomed by everyone, the sheriff included. Flora relieved her of her burdens, Mrs. Ducat brushed the snow from her feet, Sheriff Hart closed the door behind her, and Hercules Ducat gave her his own chair. She accepted these attentions graciously, turned back her hood, loosed her cloak and fixed her bright glance knowingly on the sheriff's hairy face.
CHAPTER X
THE WIDOW'S MITE
"I see ye from the windy," said the old woman, "an' I sez, quick as winkin', there goes the sheriff a-lookin' for whoever shot Amos Hammond, sez I. So I lights out an' takes a short cut an' tops the fences like a breechy steer, an' here I be."
"How's that?" exclaimed old Hercules. "Someone shoot Amos Hammond?"
"Aye, he got a pepperin' with partridge shot," returned Widow Wilson brightly. "But I wisht it had been buckshot," she added, yet more brightly.
"Ye're right, Mrs. Wilson," said the sheriff. "An' I may's well be open an' above-board about it in this company, now's ye've mentioned it. Amos Hammond ain't hurt serious, but he's most scart to death, an' he charges James Todhunter with the shootin'."
"What's that?" cried old Hercules. "Amos Hammond's a liar an' a fool! Jim shoot a man? Only a liar would say it an' only a fool would believe it! I know that lad. We all know 'im in this house. Ye're barkin' up the wrong tree, Sheriff. Ain't I right, Flora?"
But Flora didn't answer. She sat with bowed head and averted face. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and the knuckles were white as ivory.