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HIGBY HEARS ABOUT JIM AND HARRYS STRIKE
nasal voice cleft the dry stillness of the morning raspingly, and the girl at the tub bent her thin, tired shoulders and wearily began the endless rubbing. The woman in the doorway watched the operations a moment in pent-up, irascible silence; then she flew across the shed and seized the washer smartly by the shoulder. "Do you s'pose I'll have my duds played with, young lady?" she demanded heatedly. "Aint you never ivashed 'fore this — eh? S'pose this is some more of your highf alutin ' airs and graces got from your swell Eastern ma and your graceless father."
The girl at the tubs straightened with a jerk and her eyes emitted the battle-light. "Dont you dare to talk like that, Delia Higby," she hissed. "You — you murderess!"
Delia Higby gasped impotently and
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started to seize the slender, passionvibrant figure again, but the girl warded her off and her slender, spirited face blazed. "Keep off," she warned, " 'nless you want a dose of your own medicine. Yes, you are a murderess, Delia Higby; but your brother's a worse one — a worse murderer. He aint got a drop of the milk o' human kindness in him — not a drop. He knew, just as sure as he knew his name, that my mother 'd die if he put us out of his ramshackle ole house — and he did it, just the same. He wouldn't let me work so we could stay in it — then. That aint Daniel Higby 's kind. Well, my mother's dead; but I tell you, Delia Higby, I wouldn't want to be a Higby when the Day of Judgment comes."
"I'd rather be a Higby than a nobody/' retorted Delia, venomously,