Anne with precisely the same arguments with which the latter had attacked Gilbert; and Anne valiantly defended her husband with the weapons he had used for his own protection. Long was the fray, but Miss Cornelia made an end at last.
“It’s an iniquitous shame,” she declared, almost in tears. “That’s just what it is—an iniquitous shame. Poor, poor Leslie!”
“Don’t you think Dick should be considered a little too?” pleaded Anne.
“Dick! Dick Moore! He’s happy enough. He’s a better behaved and more reputable member of society now than he ever was before.
Why, he was a drunkard and perhaps worse. Are you going to set him loose again to roar and to devour?”
“He may reform,” said poor Anne, beset by foe without and traitor within.
“Reform your grandmother!” retorted Miss Cornelia. “Dick Moore got the injuries that left him as he is in a drunken brawl. He deserves his fate. It was sent on him for a punishment. I don’t believe the doctor has any business to tamper with the visitations of God.”
“Nobody knows how Dick was hurt, Miss Cornelia. It may not have been in a drunken brawl at all. He may have been waylaid and robbed.”
“Pigs may whistle, but they’ve poor mouths for it,” said Miss Cornelia. “Well, the gist of what you tell me is that the thing is settled and there’s no use in
