He
went to the little stone bench at the head of the pond, and when
he still did not see her he followed the bank around to the milk-
house, where was a mumble of voices. And, standing in the
doorway with her arm thrown around her Aunt Phoebe's shoulders in
a pretty protective manner, he saw her, and his eyes gladdened.
She did not see him at once. She was facing courageously the
three inseparables, Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, squatted at the top
of the steps, and she was speaking her mind rapidly and angrily.
Good Indian knew that tone of old, and he grinned. Also he
stopped by the corner of the house, and listened shamelessly.
"That is not true," she was saying very clearly. "You're a bad
old squaw and you tell lies. You ought to be put in jail for
talking that way." She pressed her aunt's shoulder
affectionately. "Don't you mind a word she says, Aunt Phoebe.
She's just a mischief-making old hag, and she--oh, I'd like to
beat her!"
Hagar shook her head violently, and her voice rose shrill and
malicious, cutting short Evadna's futile defiance.
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