on it and said it.  So then she looked a little better satisfied, and says: “Well, then, I'll believe some of it; but I hope to gracious if I'll believe the rest.” “What is it you won't believe, Joe?” says Mary Jane, stepping in with Susan behind her. “It ain't right nor kind for you to talk so to him, and him a stranger and so far from his people.  How would you like to be treated so?” “That's always your way, Maim--always sailing in to help somebody before they're hurt.  I hain't done nothing to him.  He's told some stretchers, I reckon, and I said I wouldn't swallow it all; and that's every bit and grain I _did_ say.  I reckon he can stand a little thing like that, can't he?” “I don't care whether 'twas little or whether 'twas big; he's here in our house and a stranger, and it wasn't good of you to say it.  If you was in his place it would make you feel ashamed; and so you oughtn't to say a thing to another person that will make _them_ feel ashamed.” “Why, Mam, he said--” “I