“As near as I can ketch what you’re drivin’ at, Squire Look, you’re callin’ me a hen turkey and you’re flingin’ out that the rest of the women in this school deestrick are turkeys, too. I for one don’t consider that is a compliment, and I don’t propose to sit here and listen to any more of that sort of talk.” He smiled indulgently at her excitement and went on: “As old Anse Breed, the chicken thief, used to say, ‘It’s a wise fowl that doesn’t step off the roost on to the first warm board that’s stuck up in the night.’ “Now, we’ll just let the story I’ve told stand for what it’s worth. But you mustn’t expect me to argue in defence of such turkeys. And if you ever see an old gobbler named Phineas Look forgetting himself to any such extent you may throw just as many stones at me as you like till I come to my right senses. “You all know why you’ve met here to-night. All this gossip and guess-so and say-so has been thrashed over at back doors and front doors, upstairs and downstairs. I’ll not soil my tongue by rolling it in my mouth.” “It’s the bus’ness of this meeting to bring out the evidence,” blurted “Wolf” Doughty. “Any time I need any assistance, Doughty, in running a meeting over which I am presiding I’ll call you in,” replied the Squire tartly. “Now, what are the facts? Here is a little girl--only a little girl--poor Ben Haskell’s ’Liza, born and brought up in this town. Her mother dead and her father worse than dead. She trying to earn her living honestly, taking care of the children that you’re glad to have out from underfoot, you women. Every day she has been sending them home to you a little better, a little sweeter, a little more honest and self-respecting for having been with her that day--and yet all of you are ready to turn and rend her at the first squawk of---- “Look-a-here, Squire!” Mrs. Dunham was leaning over her desk, her thin hand vibrating at him. “You can go about so fur with me! Do you mean to tell this meetin’ that my husband----” “Sit down, woman!” the lawyer thundered. “This ain’t free speech!” clamoured Uncle Appleby. “A moderator ain’t got no license to choke off everybody here.” With one stride Squire Phin was off the platform. Indignation bristled from his shaggy gray locks and gleamed in his narrowing eyes. As he passed Sylvena Willard she gave him a look that was like a cup of cold water to a man in battle. He stood among them in the centre aisle.