“Oh, I guess 'tain't 'ny more cold,” said 'Manda Grier.
“What do you mean?”
“I guess 'f you cared a great deal you'd noticed that cough 'f hers before now. 'Tain't done it any too much good workin' in that arsenic paper all summer long.”
'Manda Grier talked with her face turned away from him.
It provoked him more and more. “I do care,” he retorted, eager to quarrel, “and you know it. Who got her into the box-factory, I should like to know?”
“I did!” said 'Manda Grier, turning sharply on him, “and you kept her there; and between us we've killed her.”
“How have I kept her there, I should like to know?”
“'F you'd done's she wanted you should, she might 'a' been at some pleasant place in the country—the mount'ns, or somewhere 't she'd been ov'r her cough by this time. But no! You was too nasty proud for that, Lemuel Barker!”
A heavy load of guilt dropped upon Lemuel's heart, but he flung it off, and he retorted furiously,
“You ought to have been ashamed of yourself to ever want her to take a servant's place.”