When Ruth came home from school she found an immense kettle of parsnip
stew, her father and her uncles Silas and Caleb again forming a pleasant
expectant semicircle before the fire, but no Wigginses. To-day the stew
was seasoned daintily, and salt had taken the place of saleratus. There
was no stint as to quantity, but there were not enough partakers. Mrs.
Whitman filled a great bowl for Lucy Ann; she sent a dish over to the
Whites; father and Caleb and Silas ate manfully, and passed their plates
again and again; Serena and Ruth and their mother ate all they could,
and the cat had her fill; but the Whitmans, with all their allies, could
not eat their own share and that of the Wigginses. But the stew was
delicious, and as the family ate, their simple homely little feud was
healed, and the parsnip stew smoked in their midst like a pipe of
peace.
THE DICKEY BOY
"I should think it was about time for him to be comin'," said Mrs. Rose.
"So should I," assented Miss Elvira Grayson. She peered around the
corner of the front door. Her face was thin and anxious, and her voice
was so like it that it was unmistakably her own note. One would as soon
expect a crow to chick-a-dee as Miss Elvira to talk in any other way.
She was tall, and there was a sort of dainty angularity about her narrow
shoulders. She wore an old black silk, which was a great deal of dress
for afternoon.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154