Mrs. Swinger was a stout, masculine woman, brought up in the woods, and
never fainted in her life, even in presence of an alligator or a
panther. So she had no scruples in seizing Mr. Maxwell by the nape of
the neck, and giving him a kind of double twist, which sent him reeling
into the corner of the cabin.
"I'll teach you to put your hands upon an onprotected female, you
varmint, you!" said she, and, going to the door, she screamed "Jerry"
three times, with a voice that would have done honor to a Stentor.
"Now, stranger," said she, elevating her tall form to its full height,
and, with a gesture like a queen of the Amazons, pointing to the door,
"take yourself off, or my Jerry will tote you down to the river, and
drown you like a kitten!"
Mrs. Swinger's arm fell like a tragic heroine's, and she stood proudly
contemplating the object of her wrath, perhaps hoping the attorney would
await the arrival of "her Jerry," in whose prowess she seemed to place
unlimited confidence.
Vernon, who was waiting near the vehicle he had procured, heard the loud
and angry words of the excited dame, and now approached the house to
ascertain the cause of the confusion.
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