The weaker man faltered, gave way, and resumed his speech.
"She's a masterful woman, I tell ye! She thinks Deacon Scraper is a dangerous man, and there aint nobody here but what'll agree with her that far.

Then--he--he's got a mortgage on my farm, same as he has on others,--plenty of others as is better clothed with means than ever I've been; and, all about it, my wife aint willing for us to make an enemy of the old man.

That's where the land lays, and you can see for yourself.
Plenty in the village is fixed the same way; he's got power, that old grape-skin has, power over better men than he.

We don't want to see that child put upon, but we aint no blood to him, and there aint anybody but feels that he himself aint just the one to interfere.

That's the way my wife feels, and I,--well, there now! you're a stranger, and I may never set eyes on you again; but I take to you, somehow, and I don't mind telling you that I feel as mean as dirt whenever I think of that lamb in that old fox's den; mean as dirt I feel, and yet I aint got the spunk to--the strenth is gone out of my legs," he added, piteously, "these ten years back, and I think some of my sperrit went with it.