"We been stuck right down in the mud here in
Brookville since that dratted bank failed. Nobody's moved, except to
the graveyard. And here comes along a young woman with money ... I'd
like mighty well to know just how much she's got an' where it come
from. I asked the Judge, and he says, blamed if he knows.... But this
'ere young female spells op-per-tunity, Abby. We got to take
advantage of the situation, Abby, same as you do in blackberrying
season: pick 'em when they're ripe; if you don't, the birds and the
bugs'll get 'em."
"It don't sound right to me, papa," murmured his wife, her kind face
full of soft distress: "Taking advantage of a poor young thing, like
her, an' all in mourning, too, fer a near friend. She told Lois so
... Dear, dear!"
Mr. Daggett had filled his morning pipe and was puffing energetically
in his efforts to make it draw.
"I didn't _say_ take advantage of _her_," he objected. "That's
somethin' I never done yet in my business, Abby. Th' Lord knows I
don't sand my sugar nor water my vinegar, the way some storekeepers
do. I'm all for 'live an' let live.' What I says was--... Now, you
pay attention to me, Abby, and quit sniffling. You're a good woman;
but you're about as soft as that there butter! ..."
The article in question had melted to a yellow pool under the heat.
Mrs. Daggett gazed at it with wide blue eyes, like those of a child.
"Why, Henry," she protested, "I never heerd you talk so before."
"And likely you won't again.
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