"That's true enough, but they'd a killed him quicker if I hadn't got there. Ah, laws a massy, the meanness of this world. An' what did they try to do with me? Hauled me up befo' cou't, an' thar I went with little Laz in my arms, an' they tried me fur--'sault, I think them fetch-taked lawyers called it. An' I says 'salt or sugar, I'm here, an' what air you goin' to do about it?' They fotch money again' me, an' the lawyers they jawed an' they palarvered; an' finally I got a chance to speak to that weak-kneed jedge, I did, an' I says, 'Look here, I've a longer knife, an' if you tell this jury to convict me, I'll put about a foot an' a half of it under yo' rusty ribs.' An' you better believe he smiled on me. Margaret, there ain't no use to set around here an' grieve. In this here world grief never counted fur nuthin' yit. Stir about an' take care of yo' stock an' you'll feel better. Miz Barker, I seed you a comin' an' I know'd you'd make things worse, so I come to off-set you. An' now, if we air goin' to be good friends, let's talk of somethin' pleasant. Anybody dead over yo' way, Miz Barker--I mean anybody that ought to be?" This interested Mrs. Barker, and upon the head she tapped into sloth her rising resentment. "Nobody dead," she said, with a smack of the mouth, "but Liza Pruitt ain't expected to git well." "Oh, is that the one they had the talk about consarnin' of the preacher?" "Yes, Brother Lane." "Brother Fool. But atter all, not half as big a fool as she was. I do think of all the fools in the world the woman that gives the opportunity for 'em to hitch up her name with a preacher's--she's the biggest. Why, don't a woman know that everybody is a watchin' of a preacher? But he feels himself safer than any man in the world. Befo' I was married there was a preacher named Collier used to come to see me. I 'lowed he was a single man, an' when I found he wan't I handed him his hat an' I says, I does, 'Here, put this on an' see if it'll fit you.' He declared that it was a past'ral call, an' I says, 'Well, then, go out in the pasture.' Now let's put things in order for I'm goin' to stay all night." She was imperious, but not without generosity, for she granted to Margaret the right to look sad. But she would brook no demonstration, and when Mrs. Barker sought to lead Margaret back for a hiccoughey stroll along the dew-dripping path, she turned upon her with a snap. "Miz Barker, putty soon you'll force me to wring you an' hang you out to dry."