"You're wrong, Sary, we do _not_ nibble at the table--we leave that
for the field-mice," corrected Mrs. Brewster, sweetly.
Sary vented an explosive "Humph!" and grabbed the meat-platter. As she
left the kitchen, she sent an insulted glance at her mistress, but the
recent correction in speech made her forget the hornet. The watchful
insect had been sitting directly over the door, and now eagerly resumed
its drive on the enemy.
Despite her resolve to be dignified and scornful, Sary had to take
flight before the group seated about the table. The girls laughed. One
of the maid's loose shoes flew off during the race around the table and
the hornet would have conquered her had not Mr. Brewster risen to the
occasion and downed the insect with his newspaper. His heavy boot
finished the career of the "Hun-net" and Sary went back to the house,
picking up her shoe as she passed its resting place.
Once more in the kitchen, she returned to the argument. "Ef it warn't
that you-all hed this comp'ny an' would be worn out in no time, alone,
Ah'd pack an' git, this day!" But in her heart the widow knew horses
could not drag her from such luxury as she had only recently enjoyed.
Besides, there was Jeb; he offered future possibilities of curtailing
her widowhood.
While Sary delivered her opinion, Mrs. Brewster finished creaming the
potatoes and now dished them up. As she started for the screen-door,
she turned to the maid and said:
"Either you have a severe attack of indigestion coming on, Sary, or you
are falling in love again.
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