“And I am glad you had spirit enough to do it! I reckon he will think twice before he kills any more of my geese!”
“I expect you are right, Sally. I don't think we shall be troubled again.”
“And what did you say to him? And what did he say for himself?”
“Why he wanted very much to pay me for the corn his pigs had eaten, but I wouldn't hear to it. I told him that it made no difference in the world; that such accidents would happen sometimes.”
“You did?”
“Certainly, I did.”
“And that's the way you spoke your mind to him?”
“Precisely. And it had the desired effect. It made him feel ten times worse than if I had spoken angrily to him. He is exceedingly pained at what he has done, and says he will never rest until he has paid for that corn. But I am resolved never to take a cent for it. It will be the best possible guarantee I can have for his kind and neighbourly conduct hereafter.”
“Well, perhaps you are right,” said Mrs. Gray, after a few moments of thoughtful silence. “I like Mrs. Barton very much—and now I come to think of it, I should not wish to have any difference between our families.”
“And so do I like Mr. Barton. He has read a good deal, and I find it very pleasant to sit with him, occasionally, during the long winter evenings. His only fault is his quick temper—but I am sure it is much better for us to bear with and soothe that, than to oppose rand excite it and thus keep both his family and our own in hot water.”