"His sister," he sneered. "All right, I'll think
about her all right. She's another stuck-up that don't speak to
common folks. Who knows anything about her any more'n they did
about him? Better look up her record, I guess. The boy's turned
out to be a thief; maybe the sister'll turn out to be--"
"Stop! Be still!"
Jed actually shouted it. Babbitt stopped, principally because the
suddenness of the interruption had startled him into doing so. But
the pause was only momentary. He stared at the interrupter in
enraged amazement for an instant and then demanded: "Stop? Who are
you tellin' to stop?"
"You."
"I want to know! Well, I'll stop when I get good and ready and if
you don't like it, Shavin's, you can lump it. That Phillips kid
has turned out to be a thief and, so far as anybody 'round here
knows, his sister may be--"
"Stop!" Again Jed shouted it; and this time he rose to his feet.
Phineas glared at him.
"Humph!" he grunted. "You'll make me stop, I presume likely."
"Yes."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, it's got to be so. Look here, Phin, I realize you're mad and
don't care much what you say, but there's a limit, you know. It's
bad enough to hear you call poor Charlie names, but when you start
in on Ruth--on Mrs. Armstrong, I mean--that's too much. You've got
to stop."
This speech was made quietly and with all the customary Winslow
deliberation and apparent calm, but there was one little slip in it
and that slip Babbitt was quick to notice.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351