"You've got him?" demanded Ireton. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. Ruth shivered; she was cold. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence.
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