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If in Halpin's youth his mother had "spoiled" him, he had assuredly done his part toward being spoiled. As he grew to such manhood as is attainable by a Southerner who does not care which way elections go the attachment between him and his beautiful mother whom from early childhood he had called Katy became yearly stronger and more tender.
I want you to taste it," urged the wife. "Its flavour is delightful. I must go over and see Mrs. Halpin's dairy." To satisfy his wife, Mr. Bolton took some of the butter on his plate. He would rather have thrown it out of the window. "Now try it on a piece of bread," said Mrs. Bolton. "I declare! You act as if you were afraid of the butter. What's the matter with you?" There was no reason why Mr.
Now it so happened that they met exactly at a narrow gap in the ditch behind Rosha Halpin's house. The goats, bein' coupled together, got one on each side of the rift, wid the rope that coupled them extended acrass it. The mare stood in the middle of it, so that the goats were in the way of the mare, an' the mare in the way of the goats.
Bolton, with knit brows, on meeting Ben, some time afterwards, returning from the part of the farm where he had left him. "Yes, sir," was the answer of Ben. "What did you do with the gate?" "I threw it into the field, as you told me." "You didn't break it?" "No, sir." "Very well." "There'll be trouble, Mr. Bolton," said Ben. "How do you know?" "Mr. Halpin's a very determined man."
On the morning that followed, while Mr. Bolton stood conversing with a farm-hand who had been on the place under the former owner, he observed the same vehicle passing across the portion of his land referred to. "Whose wagon is that, Ben?" he asked, in the tone of a man who felt that another had trespassed upon his rights. "It is Mr. Halpin's," was replied. "Halpin, who owns the next farm?"
Teeshie Halpin's taken a notion of him since he straightened up, an' as sure as you're living she'll have him the minute they can scrape a few ha'pence thegether to buy a wheen of furniture. Well, if the Volunteers never does no more nor that, they'll have done well, for dear knows, Andy Gebbie was an affront to the Almighty, an' him stoopin' that way!" "But are they going to fight, Sheila?..."
There was no familiar, beloved figure to follow you swiftly as you turned off Elm Street, homeward bound. If she went downtown now, she saw only those Saturday-night family groups which are familiar to every small town. The husband, very wet as to hair and clean as to shirt, guarding the gocart outside while the woman accomplished her Saturday-night trading at Ding's or Halpin's.
Bolton should not do as his wife wished at least no reason that he could give to her. It wouldn't do to say "I won't touch Mrs. Halpin's butter because I've cut off her husband's right of way across my land. I have nailed up the only outlet there is from his property to the public road." No, it wouldn't do to say that. So, nothing was left for Mr. Bolton but to taste the delicious butter.
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