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But ter think o' our trials, an' how pore we hev been!" "This air the Purdees' day!" cried the grandmother, her face flushed with the semblance of youth. "Arter all ez hev kem an' gone, the jedg-mint o' the Lord hev descended on Grinnell, an' he air cast out. An' his fields, an' house, an' bin, an' barn, air Purdee's!"
"But I'm fur peace. An' ef the Purdees will leave we-uns be, I ain't a-goin' ter meddle along o' them." She remembered an old barn-burning, in the days when she and her husband were newly married, at his father's house.
Augusta looked at him in exasperation. "I ain't keerin' ef all the Purdees war deef," she remarked, inhumanly, "but what war them words ye sent fur a message ter Purdee? 'bout pridin' on what ain't theirn." Grinnell in his turn looked at her but dubiously, However much a man is under the domination of his wife, he is seldom wholly frank.
Suddenly he rose, took down his gun, and started toward the door. "Roger," cried his wife, shrilly, "I'd leave the critter be. Lord knows thar's been enough blood spilt an' good shelter burned along o' them Purdees' an' Grinnells' quar'ls in times gone. Laws-a-massy!" she wrung her hands, all hampered though they were in the "spun truck " "I'd ruther be a sheep 'thout a soul, an' live in peace."
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