Good Indian took a step forward, his face white with rage. Viney
saw him first, muttered an Indian word of warning, and the three
sprang up and backed away from his approach.
"So you've got to call me a murderer!" he cried, advancing
threateningly upon Hagar. "And even that doesn't satisfy you.
You--"
Evadna rushed up the steps like a crisp little whirlwind, and
caught his arm tightly in her two hands.
"Grant! We don't believe a word of it. You couldn't do a thing
like that. Don't we KNOW? Don't pay any attention to her. We
aren't going to. It'll hurt her worse than any kind of
punishment we could give her. Oh, she's a VILE old thing! Too
vile for words! Aunt Phoebe and I shouldn't belittle ourselves by
even listening to her. SHE can't do any harm unless we let it
bother us--what she says. _I_ know you never could take a human
life, Grant. It's foolish even to speak of such a thing. It's
just her nasty, lying tongue saying what her black old heart
wishes could be true.
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