She unceremoniously ducked and ran. But the insect buzzed after
her with evil intent, so Sary ran for her sanctuary, slamming the
screen door safely between herself and her pursuer. The audience
watching beside the table laughed merrily at the rout.
At the sudden entrance of the maid into the kitchen, Mrs. Brewster
asked, without looking up: "Did you place the butter and milk on the
table, Sary?"
"It are!" from Sary, curtly.
Mrs. Brewster looked up in surprise. She saw Sary on the safe side of
the screen-door glaring at the hornet, which was crawling slowly
towards the crack in the opening, while buzzing threateningly, now and
then.
"There's a hornet, Sary--better drive it away before you venture out
again."
"Ah are."
"Take the kettle and dash some boiling water on it. It sounds angry
enough to sting."
"It am," flared Sary, as if her anger, too, was vicious enough to do as
the hornet would. But she turned to get the hot water and when she
returned to deluge the plague, lo! it was there no more.
"Sary, what's wrong with you since this morning? You've not been civil
in any way," said Mrs. Brewster, impatiently.
"Wrong e'nuff! Jeb an' m'sef havin' t' eat meals all alone in a big
kitchen that's fine e'nuff fer any one. But these fool gals is so high
an' mighty they hez t' nibble at a table under the trees!" Sary's lofty
scorn was only equaled by her majestic pose, as she delivered her
sentence.
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