Now I've
said my say. Thar's the door ef you dare open yore mouth agin. Thar
ain't a speck o' Christian sperit in you. I'm ashamed to call you
neighbor."
With an expression of mingled anger and fear in her face, Mrs. Dawson
looked at her hostess, and without a word rose stiffly and went to the
bed, on which lay her shawl, carpet-bag, and bonnet. Her face was to
the wall as she drew her bonnet on and began to tie the strings.
"I'll go out the back way," whispered Westerfelt to Mrs. Bradley; "for
God's sake, don't let her go!"
"All right," promised Mrs. Bradley; "go on. I'll make 'er stay, I
reckon, but she's as stubborn as a mule."
He went through the kitchen, round the house, and out at the gate. He
stopped, leaned against the fence, and watched the two women through
the window. Mrs. Dawson had put on her shawl. She held her bag in
front of her, and stood in the centre of the room. Mrs. Bradley leaned
against the mantel-piece. Their lips moved, and Mrs. Dawson was
gesticulating furiously, but he could not hear their voices. Suddenly
Mrs. Bradley took the bag from the old woman and put it on the bed.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241