A Tangled Web by L. M. Montgomery Page B

banged the door.
    â€œLet’s leave the females to fight it out,” he said. But the men, as soon as they got outside, had plenty to say.
    â€œWould you believe it?” demanded William Y., looking around him as if appealing to the world.
    â€œNobody got much change out of Aunt Becky, did they?” chuckled Murray Dark.
    Dandy Dark was puffing himself out. He had never in all his life been of any importance, save what little accrued from the fact that he was the only man in the countryside who kept a bulldog. And now he had, in a wink, become the most important person in the clan.
    â€œAll the weemen will be wishing I was single,” he chuckled. But his face was inscrutable—purposely so. No fear of his giving away the secret.
    â€œToo mean to give anything away, even a secret,” muttered Artemas Dark.
    â€œThe heathen are raging already,” said Stanton Grundy to Uncle Pippin. “If that jug doesn’t set everybody on ears in a month’s time, may I fight with Irishmen to the end of my life. Keep your eyes buttoned back for sights, Pippin.”
    â€œOh, take in the slack of your jaw,” said Uncle Pippin snappishly.
    â€œWell, a nice lot of family skeletons have had a good airing,” said Palmer Dark.
    â€œI haven’t had as much fun since the dog-fight in church,” said Artemas Dark.
    â€œAunt Becky never liked any of us, you know,” said Hugh. “She’s bound to get all the rises she can out of us.”
    â€œShe isn’t like any other woman,” growled Drowned John.
    â€œNobody is,” said Grundy.
    â€œYou don’t know much about women, John,” said Sim Dark.
    No man can endure being told he knows nothing about women—especially if he has coffined two wives. Drowned John went into an icy rage.
    â€œWell, I know something about you, Sim Dark, and if you don’t stop circulating lies about me as you’ve been doing for years, you’ll have to reckon with me.”
    â€œBut surely you don’t want me to tell the truth about you,” said Sim in bland amazement.
    Drowned John did not reply in words—could not—since he dared not swear so near Aunt Becky. He simply spat.
    â€œIt’s an outrageous way to leave the jug,” growled William Y.
    â€œYou should be thankful she didn’t make it a condition that everybody should turn a somersault in the church aisle,” said Artemas. “She would if she’d thought of it.”
    â€œYou would have liked that, I don’t doubt,” retorted William Y. “Grinning like a chessy cat over the very thought of it.”
    Oswald Dark turned around and surveyed the irritated William Y.
    â€œLook at the moon,” he said softly, waving his hand at a pale, silver bubble floating over the seaward valley. “Look at the moon,” he repeated insistently, laying a long thin hand on the arm of William Y.
    â€œHeavens, I’ve seen moons before—hundreds of them!” snorted William Y. peevishly.
    â€œBut can one see a thing of perfect beauty—like the moon—too often?” inquired Oswald, fixing his large agate eyes questioningly on William Y., who jerked his arm away and turned his back both on Oswald and his moon.
    â€œThat jug shouldn’t be in a house where there is no responsible woman,” said Denzil Penhallow sourly. Everybody knew that Mrs. Dandy was as mad as a November partridge by spells.
    â€œIf anyone has anything to say against my wife he’d better not let me hear him saying it,” retorted Dandy ominously. “I’ll smash his face for him.”
    â€œAny time and any place,” said Denzil obligingly.
    â€œCome, come, let us preserve decorum,” implored Uncle Pippin nervously.
    â€œPippin, go home and soak your head in turpentine for three days,” boomed Drowned John.
    Uncle Pippin subsided. This, he reflected, was what came of Aunt Becky’s not giving