“This morning, my son found thy Durham heifer in my garden, where she has destroyed a good deal.”
“And what did he do with her?” demanded Dood, his brow darkening.
“What would thee have done with her, had she been my heifer in thy garden?” asked Obadiah.
“I'd a shot her!” retorted Watt, madly, “as I suppose you have done; but we are only even now. Heifer for filly is only 'tit for tat.'”
“Neighbour Dood, thou knowest me not, if thou thinkest I would harm a hair of thy heifer's back. She is in my farm-yard, and not even a blow has been struck her, where thee can get her at any time. I know thee shot my filly; but the evil one prompted thee to do it, and I lay no evil in my heart against my neighbours. I came to tell thee where thy heifer is, and now I'll go home.”
Obadiah rose from his chair, and was about to descend the steps, when he was stopped by Watt, who hastily asked,
“What was your filly worth?”
“A hundred dollars is what I asked for her,” replied Obediah.
“Wait a moment!” and Dood rushed into the house, from whence he soon returned, holding some gold in his hand. “Here's the price of your filly; and hereafter let there be a pleasantness between us.”
“Willingly, heartily,” answered Lawson, grasping the proffered hand of the other; “let there be peace between us.”