Cynthia looked at her steadily for a moment, and then turned from the room. “I'm not going to defend myself against such suspicions as you have,” she said from the door. “I know what I am, if you don't.” “I reckon this whole county will know what you are before many days,” snarled Mrs. Porter. “Minnie Wade had somebody in her family with enough manhood in 'im to want to defend her honor, but you haven't. Your sleepy-headed old father--” The girl was gone. For several minutes the old woman stood quivering in the warm sunlight at the window, and then she stalked calmly through the dining-room and kitchen and out to the barn. One of the stable-doors was open, and she could see her husband inside. “Nathan Porter!” she called out--“you come here. I've got something to tell you.” “All right,” he answered. “I'll be thar in a minute. Dern yore lazy soul, hain't I give you enough corn to eat without you havin' to chaw up a brand-new trough? I'm a good mind to take this curry-comb an' bust yore old head with it!” “Nathan Porter, I say, come out here! Let that horse alone!” “All right, I'm a-comin'. Now, I reckon I'll have to fetch a hammer an' saw an' nails an' buy planks to make another trough, jest fer you to chaw up into powder.” “Nathan Porter, do you hear me?” “Well, I reckon ef I don't, they do over at Baker's,” and the farmer, bareheaded and without his coat, came from the stable. “That blasted hoss has deliberately set to work an' chaw--” “Nathan Porter”--the old woman thrust her slim fingers into his face--“do you see that piece of fodder?” “Yes, I see it. Is it a sample o' last year's crop? Are you buy in' or sellin'? You mought 'a' fetched a bundle of it. A tiny scrap like--” “I got that out o' Cynthia's hair.” “You don't say! It must be a new sort o' ornament! I wouldn't be surprised to see a woman with a bundle of it under each arm on the front bench at meetin' after seein' them Wilson gals t'other night ready fer the dance with flour in the'r hair an' the ace o' spades pasted on the'r cheeks.” “Cynthia and Nelson Floyd stayed all night in Long's mill,” panted Mrs. Porter. “There wasn't another soul there nor in miles of it.” “Huh, you don't say!” the farmer sniffed. “I reckon ef they had 'a' sent out a proclamation through the country that they was goin' to stay thar a lot o' folks would 'a' waded through the storm to be present.” “I got this out of her hair, I tell you!” the old woman went on, fiercely. “Her head was all messed up, and so was her dress. If you've got any manhood in you, you'll go to town and call Nelson Floyd out and settle this thing.”