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.