b was cutting.

Finally, the host became tired of his dumb visitor, and leaning on
his axe he said, "Look here, Sis, what have you come for? What's your
errant? Do you want apples? Or cider? Or what? Speak out, or GIT out,
one or t'other."

Emma Jane, who had wrung her handkerchief into a clammy ball, gave it
a last despairing wrench, and faltered: "Wouldn't you like--hadn't you
better--don't you think you'd ought to be more constant at meeting and
Sabbath school?"

Jacob's axe almost dropped from his nerveless hand, and he regarded
the Daughter of Zion with unspeakable rage and disdain. Then, the blood
mounting in his face, he gathered himself together, and shouted: "You
take yourself off that log and out o' this dooryard double-quick, you
imperdent sanct'omus young one! You just let me ketch Bill Perkins'
child trying to teach me where I shall go, at my age! Scuttle, I tell
ye! And if I see your pious cantin' little mug inside my fence ag'in on
sech a business I'll chase ye down the hill or set the dog on ye! SCOOT,
I TELL YE!"

Emma Jane obeyed orders summarily, taking herself off the log, out the
dooryard, and otherwise scuttling and scooting down the hill at a pace
never contemplated even by Jacob Moody, who stood regarding her flying
heels with a sardonic grin.

Down she stumbled, the tears coursing over her cheeks and mingling with
the dust of her flight; blighted hope, shame, fear, rage, all tearing
her bosom in turn, till with a hysterical shriek she fell over the bars
and into Rebecca's arms outstretched to receive her. The other Daughters
wiped her eyes and supported her almost fainting form, while Thirza,
thoroughly frightened, burst into sympathetic tears, and refused to be
comforted.

No questions were asked, for it was felt by all parties that Emma Jane's
demeanor was answering them before they could be framed.

"He threatened to set the dog on me!" she wailed presently, when, as
they neared the Sawyer pasture, she was able to control her voice. "He
called me a pious, cantin' young one, and said he'd chase me out o' the
dooryard if I ever came again! And he'll tell my father--I know he will,
for he hates him like poison."

All at once the adult point of view dawned upon Rebecca. She never
saw it until it was too obvious to be ignored. Had they done wrong in
interviewing Jacob Moody? Would Aunt Miranda be angry, as well as Mr.
Perkins?

"Why was he so dreadful, Emmy?" she questioned tenderly. "