He didn't talk any worse than father, not a mite. Father
started it, anyway, and he knew better; he knew just how set Barney
was on his own side, and how set he was on his; he wanted to pick a
quarrel."
"Charlotte!" shouted Cephas.
"You keep still, father," returned Charlotte, with steady fierceness.
"I've never set myself up against you in my whole life before; but
now I'm going to, because it's just and right. Father wanted to pick
a quarrel," she repeated, turning to Deborah; "he's been kind of
grouty to Barney for some time. I don't know why; he took a notion
to, I suppose. When they got to having words about the 'lection,
father begun it. I heard him. Barney answered back, and I didn't
blame him; I would, in his place. Then father ordered him out of the
house, and he went. I don't see what else he could do. And I don't
blame him because he didn't go home if he didn't feel like it."
"Didn't he go away from here before nine o'clock?" demanded Deborah,
addressing Charlotte at last.
"Yes, he did, some time before nine; he had plenty of time to go home
if he wanted to."
"Where was he, then, I'd like to know?"
"I don't know, and I wouldn't lift my finger to find out. I am not
afraid he was anywhere he hadn't ought to be, nor doin' anything he
hadn't ought to."
"Didn't you stand out in the road and call him back, and he wouldn't
come, nor even turn his head to look at you?" asked Deborah.
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