He hesitated a moment, then, lifting the ring from the
post, he pushed the gate open and went round the house and into the
kitchen.
In a corner dimly lighted by a tallow-dip, and surrounded by pans,
pots, and cooking utensils, Mrs. Bradley stood washing dishes. She
turned when he entered.
"Why," she exclaimed, "I--I thought you'd gone; what are you comin' in
the back way fer?"
"I've got something to say to--to her," he said, in a low tone. "I
thought I'd ask you to stay out here for a minute--I won't be long."
She said nothing for a moment, but looked at him strangely, as she
slowly dried her hands on a dish-towel. Then she burst out impulsively:
"John Westerfelt, ef Luke wusn't so particular 'bout my conduct with
men, I'd kiss you smack dab in the mouth an' hug you; no wonder women
make fools of the'rse'ves about you. Ef anybody ever dares agin to say
anything agin yore character to me, I'll--"
She choked up, turned to the corner, and dived into her dishpan, and he
saw only her back. He went into the next room. Mrs. Dawson's dull
glance was fixed on the coals under the logs.
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