And at this point Mary Lyon advanced a step so fiercely and with such martial energy, that, well inured as my grandfather was to the generous outbursts of his wife, he moved his chair back with a certain alacrity. "Mary," he remonstrated, "Mr. Shepstone Oglethorpe was with them. So at least I understand, and also Mr. Kettle, who is a Justice of the Peace--these in addition to the constable----" He got no further. My grandmother swooped upon the names, as perhaps he expected. It was by no means the first time that, in order to draw off the hounds of his wife's wrath, he had skilfully drawn a red herring across the trail. "Shepstone--Shepstone!" she cried, "a useless, daidling body! What was he ever good for in this world but to tie his neckcloth and twirl his cane? Oh aye, he can maybe button his 'spats'! That is, if he doesna get the servant lass to do it for him. And Josiah Kettle! William, I wonder you are not shamed, goodman--to sit there in your own hearth-corner and name such a hypocrite to me----" "Stop there, Mary," said her husband; "only a man's Maker has the right to call him a hypocrite----" "Well, I am an Elder's wife, and I'll e'en be his Viceroy. Josiah Kettle _is_ a hypocrite, and I hae telled him so to his face--not once, but a score of times. He has robbed the widow. He has impoverished the orphan. Fegs, if I were a man, I could not keep my hands off him, and, 'deed, I have hard enough work as it is. If there was a man about the house worth his salt----" "Forgive your enemies----" suggested my grandfather, "do good----" "So I would--so I would," cried my grandmother, "but first I would give the best cheese out o' the dairy-loft to see Josiah ducked head over heels in Blackmire Dub! Forgive--aye, certainly, since it is commanded. But a bit dressing down would do the like o' him no harm, and then the Lord could take His own turn at him after!" Thus did my grandmother address all who came into contact with her, and there is every reason to believe that she had more than once similarly exhorted Mr. Josiah Kettle, rich farmer and money-lender though he was. Yet it is equally certain that if Mr. Kettle had been stricken with a dangerous and deadly malady which made his nearest kin flee from him, it would have been my grandmother who would have flown to nurse him with the same robust and forcible tenderness with which she oversaw the teething and other ills incidental to her daughter's children.