"Ma, it ain’t that. I didn’t ’low to keer fer John, an’ he didn’t ’low to keer fer me, but it jest gradually crope up on us," said the girl in a faltering tone, her face deeply red. She looked appealingly from Mr. Hurd to her mother. "Don’t turn ag’in’ us. We lowed it wusn’t right not to tell you, but—" "It ain’t no use to be a-palaverin’ with your ma, Sarah Betsy Harding," said Killus Hurd, standing up to his full height, and eying her sternly. "It’s me you’ve got to listen to, an’ if there is a spark o’ pride or feelin’ in your heart, it’s bound to be teched. John’s the last child, out’n nine, that’s been left to me an’ his ma; but I’ll turn him out o’ doors, I’ll drive him plum’ from the country before he shall marry you, an’ the curse o’ the Almighty shall foller him." "It ain’t for human creeturs to say who the Almighty’s wrath must be turned against," said a mild, rebuking voice; and there at the piazza step stood Sile Ed’ards, the preacher, leaning on his stout stick, his deep-set gray eyes fixed gravely upon the angry neighbors. A short embarrassed silence followed his unexpected appearance. Sarah Betsy retreated to the doorway, and Mrs. Long laughed awkwardly. "You must ’a’ jes’ crope up, Brother Ed’ards," she said, with an attempt at lightness. "Come in an’ take a seat, won’t you?" said Mrs. Harding, recovering herself. "Not to-day, Sister Harding. I’m goin’ up on Bush Mount’in, an’ I ’low to salt Dave Martin’s cattle while there." Mr. Hurd put on his hat. "I’ll jest be goin’, Mis’ Harding," he said, coldly. "Won’t you stay a minute?" asked the preacher in his mild, slow voice. "If it ain’t puttin’ nobody out, I’d like to know what’s the matter." The enemies each hastened to give an account of the renewed quarrel, and its cause. Sarah Betsy hung her head, and uttered not a word, though conscious that more than once Sile Ed’ards’s deep grave eyes turned toward her. The story seemed to agitate him greatly. He grew pale, and gripped his stick with trembling fingers. He sighed deeply. "It’s a serious question; but it ’pears to me love might solve it. If the Almighty wants to bring you all together ag’in in peace by unitin’ John an’ Sarah Betsy I don’t think you ought to rebel against his will. The Scripters say—" "It ain’t to be argued out on Scripter, Sile," interrupted Mr. Hurd, stubbornly. "I ain’t thinkin’ hard o’ you or blamin’ you for feelin’ that way; it’s nachel, seein’ as you’ve been called to preach; but the Scripters don’t fit ever’ time." "They will if we’ll only ’low ’m to." "Mis’ Harding an’ Sarah Betsy know what I’ve said." "I ain’t apt to forgit some o’ the hard things you’ve said, Mister Hurd," the widow remarked, in a tone trembling with indignation. Ed’ards continued to argue and plead with them. The woman he might have softened, but he found himself powerless before hard, stern old Killus Hurd, nursing the concentrated wrath and bitterness of years.