A more ungrateful family, I am willing
to maintain, no man was ever blessed with--which comes, I reckon, from
sparing the rod and spoiling the child--but I'm sure I don't see how it is
that it is always your temper that gets inherited."
The personal note fell unheeded upon his wife's ears.
"You don't mean to tell me that you came away and left the boy sitting on
the box of a stagecoach?" she demanded sharply.
"Would you have me claim a stagedriver as a grandson?" retorted the Major,
"because I may as well say now, ma'am, that there are some things I'll not
stoop to. Why, I'd as lief have an uncle who was a chimney sweep."
Mrs. Lightfoot turned uneasily in bed. "It means, I suppose, that I shall
have to get up and go after him," she remarked, "and you yourself heard the
doctor tell me not to move out of bed for a week. It does seem to me, Mr.
Lightfoot, that you might show some consideration for my state of health.
Do ride in this afternoon, and tell Dan that I say he must behave himself
properly."
But the Major turned upon her the terrific countenance she had last seen on
Jane's wedding day, and she fell silent from sheer inability to utter a
protest befitting the occasion.
"If that stagedriver enters my house, I leave it, ma'am," thundered the old
gentleman, with a stamp of his gouty foot. "You may choose between us, if
you like,--I have never interfered with your fancies--but, by God, if you
bring him inside my doors I--I will horsewhip him, madam," and he went
limping out into the hall.
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