"Don't she never come here no more?" asked Eli in disbelief.

"Nope, not after them three beatin's I give her. She kept a comin', and
I had to wallop her. I'd do it again if she snoops 'bout here."

"Ye beat her up well, didn't ye, Lem? And she telled Mammy that yer brat
were drowned one night in the river. Were it, Lem?"

There was an expectant pause between his first and last questions, and
Lem waited almost as long before he grunted:

"Yep."

"Did ye throw it in when ye was drunk?"

"Nope, he jest fell in--that's all."

"I guess that last beatin' ye give Scraggy made her batty. Mam says that
she ain't no more sense than her cat."

"Let her keep to hum then, and she won't get beat. I don't do no runnin'
after her!"

Again there came a space of time during which Eli and Lem worked in
silence. From far away in the city there came the sound of the fire
whistle, followed by the ringing of bells. But not one of the men ceased
his clipping to satisfy any curiosity he might have had.

Suddenly Lem Crabbe spoke louder than he had before that evening.