"If you had some of the mud you slung at me recently it would come in
handy now," Martin could not refrain from saying.
Another oath greeted his words. Then the stung young man started off
down the road to find relief from his smarts, ignoring the fling.
"Well," said Amanda, "well, of all things! For him to tackle a hornets'
nest! Just for the fun of it!"
"But he got his come-uppance for once! Got it from the hornets," said
Martin. "Serves him right."
"But that hurts," said Mary sympathetically. "Hornets hurt awful bad!"
"Yes," said Martin as they turned homeward. "But he's getting paid for
all the mean tricks he's played on other people."
"Mebbe God made the hornets sting him if he's a bad man," said Charlie.
"We all get what we give out," agreed Martin. "Lyman Mertzheimer will
feel those hornet stings for a few days. While I've always been taught
not to rejoice at the misfortunes of others I'm not sorry I saw him.
I'll call our account square now. You pitied him, didn't you?" he asked
Amanda suddenly. "I saw it in your eyes. So did Mary and Katie."
"Of course I pitied him," she confessed. "I'd feel sorry for anything
or anybody who suffers. I know it serves him right, that he's earned
worse than that, and yet I would have relieved him if I could have done
so. Nature meant that we should be decent, I suppose."
The man was thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so. It is a
woman's nature."
"Would you have us different?"
"No--no--we wouldn't have you different. Many of the best men would be
mere brutes if women's pity and tenderness and forgiveness were taken
out of their lives--we wouldn't have you different."