unless their mammies whipped 'em as lads."

For a moment the parson looked as if about to seize his opponent
and shake him.

"M'Adam," he roared, "I'll not stand your insolences!"

The little man turned, scuttled indoors, and came runnng back with
a chair.

"Permit me!" he said blandly, holding it before him like a
haircutter for a customer.

The parson turned away. At the gap in the hedge he paused.

"I'll only say one thing more," he called slowly. "When your wife,
whom I think we all loved, lay dying in that room above you, she
said to you in my presence--"

It was M'Adam's turn to be angry. He made a step forward with
burning face.

"Aince and for a', Mr. Hornbut," he cried passionately, "onderstand
I'll not ha' you and yer likes lay yer tongues on ma wife's memory
whenever it suits ye. You can say what ye like aboot me--lies,
sneers, snash--and I'll say naethin'. I dinna ask ye to respect me; I
think ye might do sae muckle by her, puir lass. She never harmed
ye. Gin ye canna let her bide in peace where she lies doon
yonder"-- he waved in the direction of the churchyard-- "ye'll no
come on ma land. Though she is dead she's mine."