"Ye better be careful," Zeb advised. "Lawyer Rackshaw’s not likely to fergit a thing like that, an’ I’ve heard say that he never fergives."
"I hope he won’t fergit his burnt nose, an’ I don’t care a blue divil if he doesn’t fergive."
"You must like to be in hot water, Abner."
"I don’t mind at all, ’specially when others are in with me. I’ve got a pretty tough skin, an’ kin stand more’n most people."
"Guess ye’r right, Abner," Zeb agreed, as he rose to his feet. "I must git to work now."
Abner went back to his haying, and worked with feverish energy. He was more irritated than usual over the article which had appeared in _The Live Wire_, and he vowed that the editor should apologize for the insult.
"Mebbe they’ll find that they can’t take liberties with Abner Andrews," he muttered, "even though he doesn’t wear biled shirts an’ white collars."
When he had worked for about half an hour he went into the house for a drink of buttermilk. As he came out of the milk-room he heard a knock upon the front door.
"Who in time kin that be, now?" he growled, as he shuffled through the dining-room and into the hall-way. Glancing through the small window, he saw an auto in front of the house, with a young man at the wheel.
The door was locked and when Abner tried to turn the key it stuck.
"Hang the thing," he growled. "What’s the matter with it, anyway?"
After several minutes of desperate efforts, punctured by numerous ejaculations of disgust and anger, the key turned, the lock moved, and Abner pulled the door open with a savage yank. Great was his surprise to see standing before him a smartly dressed woman, smiling in a most pleasant manner.
"Excuse me," she began. "I am sorry to give you so much trouble. But does Mr. Andrews live here?"
"Naw, he jist sleeps here, an’ lives out of doors."
"Yes, I s’pose so, when Tildy’s not around."
"I have come to see Miss Rivers," the woman explained. "She’s staying with you, is she not?"
"Yep, she’s here all right, but jist now she’s out pickin’ berries with Tildy an’ Jess. So ye want to see her, eh?"
"’Tain’t no trouble fer me, though it might be fer Belle. Come in an’ set down while I toot the horn."
Throwing open a door to the left, Abner ushered the visitor into the parlor.