He bore the assault gravely and unshrinkingly, merely saying, "Woman, peace!" "Nor while"-- pursued Jael, driven apparently to the last and most poisoned arrow in her quiver of wrath--"while the poor folk be starving in scores about Norton Bury, and the rich folk there will not sell their wheat under famine price.

Take heed to thyself, Abel Fletcher." My father winced, either from a twinge of gout or conscience; and then Jael suddenly ceased the attack, sent the other servants out of the room, and tended her master as carefully as if she had not insulted him.

In his fits of gout my father, unlike most men, became the quieter and easier to manage the more he suffered.

He had a long fit of pain which left him considerably exhausted.

When, being at last relieved, he and I were sitting in the room alone, he said to me-- "Phineas, the tan-yard has thriven ill of late, and I thought the mill would make up for it.