"Yes, but she didn't realize it, like as not. She's going to have her front door facing east'ard, too, and she'll regret that, I know."
"I don't see why," returned Miss Phosie.
"Now, Tryphosy Tibbett, you know the storms come that way, and the rain'll beat in, and the wind."
"She won't be here in winter, and it won't matter much in summer."
"Of course it will matter. Well, it ain't my business, I suppose; but I do hate to see things going wrong when they could be bettered. What you making, Ora?"
"Cake," was the laconic reply.
"You've got gingerbread, too, I see. Going to give 'em both? What kind you making?"
Ora told her.
"Well, I s'pose you're bound to feed 'em good, but as long as they ain't going to stay any longer than they can get into their own house, I don't see the odds. Thad cal'lates they'll be in by the middle of June, but I s'pose you know that. He says they'd ought to have had their well dug first, and I say so, too. Ten to one they won't strike water."
"Asa Bates was up with his willow wand and he prophesies they'll get a plenty," Miss Phosie told her.