"Hev ennybody been spiteful ter you-uns ter-day?" she asked, in an
almost maternal solicitude, and with a flash of partisan anger in her
eyes.

"Git out'n my road, Eveliny," he said, fretfully, pushing by, and
throwing the saddle on the floor. There was no one in the room but the
occupant of the rude box on rockers which served as cradle.

Absalom had a swift, prescient fear. "She'll git it all out'n me ef
I don't look sharp," he said to himself. Then aloud, "Whar's mam?" he
demanded, flinging himself into a chair and looking loweringly about.

"Topknot hev jes kem off'n her nest with fourteen deedies, an' she an'
'Melia hev gone ter the barn ter see 'bout'n 'em."

"Whar's Pete?"

"A-huntin'."

A pause. The fire smouldered audibly; a hickory-nut fell with a sharp
thwack on the clapboards of the roof, and rolled down and bounded to the
ground.

Suddenly: "I seen yer dad ter-day," he began, without coercion. "He gin
me a cussin', in the courtroom, 'fore all the folks. He cussed all the
Kit-tredges, _all_ o' 'em; him too"--he glanced in the direction of the
cradle--"cussed 'em black an' blue, an' called me a _thief_ fur marryin'
ye an kerry-in' ye off."

Her face turned scarlet, then pale. She sat down, her trembling hands
reaching out to rock the cradle, as if the youthful Kittredge might
be disturbed by the malediction hurled upon his tribe. But he slept
sturdily on.

"Waal, now," she said, making a great effort at self-control, "ye
oughtn't ter mind it. Ye know he war powerful tried. I never purtended
ter be ez sweet an' pritty ez the baby air, but how would you-uns feel
ef somebody ye despised war ter kem hyar an' tote him off from we-uns
forever?"

"I'd cut thar hearts out," he said, with prompt barbarity.

"Thar, now!" exclaimed his wife, in triumphant logic.

He gloomily eyed the smouldering coals. He was beginning to understand
the paternal sentiment. By his own heart he was learning the heart of
his wife's father.

"I'd chop 'em inter minch-meat," he continued, carrying his just
reprisals a step further.

"Waal, don't do it right now," said his wife, trying to laugh, yet
vaguely frightened by his vehemence.

"Eveliny," he cried, springing to his feet, "I be a-goin' ter tell ye
all 'bout'n it. I jes called on the cheerman fur the law agin him."

"Agin _dad!_--the law!"' Her voice dropped as she contemplated aghast
this terrible unapprehended force brought to oppress old Joel Quim-bey;
she f