Old Sally, in her eagerness to convey that she was in no degree impressed with the pedagogical importation, like many another belligerent lost the first round of the battle through an excess of personal feeling.  But though down, Sally was by no means out, and after a brief session with the snuff-brush she returned to the field prepared to maintain that the Yellett children, for all their pampering in the matter of having a governess imported for their benefit, were no better off than her own brood, who had taken the learning the gods provided.

“Too bad, Miz Yellett, that you-uns had to hire that gov’ment without lookin’ over her p’ints.  I’ve ben takin’ her in durin’ supper, and she’ll never be able to thrash ’em past Clem.  She mought be able to thrash Clem if she got plumb mad, these yere slim wimmin is tarrible wiry ‘n’ active at such times, but she’ll never be able to thrash beyant her.”  And having injected the vitriolic drop in her neighbor’s cup of happiness, Old Sally struck a gait on her chair which was the equivalent of a gallop.

But Mrs. Yellett was not the sort of antagonist to be left gaping on the road, awed to silence by the action of a rocking-chair, no matter how brilliant.

“I reckon I can thrash my own children when it’s needed, without gettin’ in help from the East, or hereabouts either, for that matter.  If other folks would only take out their public-spirited reformin’ tendencies on their own famblies, there’d be a heap less lynchin’ likely to happen round the country in the course of the next ten years.”

Old Sally let the home-thrust pass.  “Who ever hearn tell of a good teacher that wasn’t a fine thrasher in the bargain?” She swung the chair about with a pivotal motion, as if she were addressing an assemblage instead of a single listener, and then, bethinking herself of a clinching illustration, she called aloud to her daughter to bear witness.  “Eudory!  Eu-do-ry!  You-do-ry!”

“Ye-’s ma’am,” drawled the daughter, coming most unwillingly from the open-faced room opposite, where she had been inciting all four of the suitors to battle.

“What was it they called that teacher down to Caspar that larruped the hide off’n the boys?”

“A fine dis-a-ply-narian, maw.”

“Yes, that’s it—­a dis-a-ply-narian.  What kin a lettle green gourd like her know ’bout dis-apply-in?”

“Your remarks shore remind me of a sayin’ that ‘the discomfort of havin’ to swallow other folks’ dust causes a heap of anxiety over their reckless driving.’”

Mrs. Yellett flicked her riding-boot with her whip.  Her voice dropped a couple of tones, her accent became one of honeyed sweetness.