the grinding of coffee, the thumping sound made by bread being hastily
mixed in a wooden bowl standing on a wooden table. The babel grew in
volume. Dogs added to it by yelping emotionally when the smell of the
newly fried meat tempted them too near the platter and some one with a
disengaged foot at his disposal would kick them out of doors.
Personalities were exchanged more freely by members of the family, and the
meat hissed harder as it was newly turned. "Laws-a-massy!" muttered Mrs.
Rodney; and then, shoving back the sun-bonnet, she lifted her voice in a
shrill, feminine shriek:

"Eudory! Eu-dory! You-do-ry!"

A Hebe-like creature, blond and pink-cheeked, in a blue-checked apron
besmeared with grease and flour, came sulkily into her mother’s presence.
Seeing Mary Carmichael, she grasped the skirt of the greasy apron with the
sleight of hand of a prestidigitateur and pleated it into a single
handful. Her manner, too, was no slower of transformation. The family
sulks were instantly replaced by a company bridle, aided and abetted by a
company simper. "I didn’t know the stage was in yet, maw. I been talking
to Iry."

"This here be Miz Yellett’s gov’ment. Maybe she’d like to pearten up some
before she eats." She started the rocking-chair at a gallop, to signify to
her daughter that she washed her hands of further responsibility. Being
proficient in the sign language of Mrs. Rodney’s second self, as indeed
was every member of the family, Eudora led Mary to a bench placed in one
of the rooms enjoying the distinction of a side wall, and indicated a
family toilet service, which displayed every indication of having lately
seen active service. A roll-towel, more frankly significant of the
multitude of the Rodneys than had been the babel of voices, a discouraged