If
he had a doubt of the correctness of his observation, Sarah removed it
efficiently.
"Scattergood Baines," she said, "if you think you're going to boss me
like you do father, and everybody else in this town, you're mistaken. I
won't have it.... Understand that, I won't have it."
Scattergood rubbed his chin and puffed out his fat cheeks, and smiled
with deceiving mildness. "Sairy," he said, "you needn't to be scairt of
my interferin' with you in your goin's and comin's. I'd sooner stick my
hand into a kittle of b'ilin' pitch than to meddle with a young woman
in your state of mind.... I hain't hankerin' to raise no blisters."
"I won't stay penned up 'way out there in the country another day. I've
got a right to live. I've got a right to see folks and to go places,
and--to--to live!"
"To be sure.... To be sure. Jest itchin' to kick the top bar off'n the
pasture fence. Most certain you got a right to live, and nobody hain't
goin' to hender you ... least of all me. But there's jest one
observation I'd sort of like to let loose of, and that's this: Your
life's a whole lot like one of your arms and legs--easy busted. To be
sure, it kin be put in splints and mended up ag'in, but maybe you'll go
limpy or knit crooked so's nothin' kin keep the busted place from
showin'.
Pages:
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392