"An' knowed how to manage 'em," said Tedda. That makes it worse."

"Waal, he didn't kill 'em, anyway," said Marcus. "He'd ha' been
half killed ef he had tried."

"'Makes no differ," Rod answered. "He meant to; an' ef he hadn't
- s'pose we want the Back Pasture turned into a biffin'-ground
on our only day er rest? 'S'pose we want our men walkin' round
with bits er lead pipe an' a twitch, an' their hands full o' stones
to throw at us, same's if we wuz hogs er hooky keows? More'n that,
leavin' out Tedda here - an' I guess it's more her maouth than her
manners stands in her light -there ain't a horse on this farm that
ain't a woman's horse, an' proud of it. An' this yer bogspavined
Kansas sunflower goes up an' daown the length o' the country, traded
off an' traded on, boastin' as he's shed women - an' childern. I
don't say as a woman in a buggy ain't a fool. I don't say as she
ain't the lastin'est kind er fool, ner I don't say a child ain't
worse - spattin' the lines an' standin' up an' hollerin' - but I do
say, 'tain't none of our business to shed 'em daown the road."

"We don't," said the Deacon. "The baby tried to git some o' my
tail for a sooveneer last fall when I was up to the haouse, an' I
didn't kick. Boney's talk ain't goin' to hurt us any. We ain't
colts."

"Thet's what you think Bimeby you git into a tight corner, 'Lection
day er Valley Fair, like's not, daown-taown, when you're all het
an' lathery, an' pestered with flies, an' thirsty, an' sick o' bein'
worked in an aout 'tween buggies. Then somethin' whispers inside o'
your winkers, bringin' up all that talk abaout servitood an'