"The barge has turned in on our street, and it's stopping here," she said, "I guess we're going to have company. I'm dretful glad Father killed those roosters this morning. There's plenty cooked."
"Who do you suppose it is?" Elizabeth said.
"Some o' Father's folks. They're always turning up when least expected."
Elizabeth watched the high-set, curtained vehicle, a hybrid motor truck and picnic carryall that had been converted to its present use by the exigencies of "depot" traffic. A boy in overalls had descended from the driver's seat, and was lifting out a small motor trunk by its handle, and a big, pig-skin suitcase.
"Why, that's like Mother's trunk," Elizabeth said, "and that suitcase is like her suitcase."
A tall, blonde woman in a blue tailored suit and a blue veil jumped lightly out of the unwieldy conveyance, her hand touching that of the boy in overalls.
"Shall I lift these here baggages into the house for you?" he said.
"Yes, thank you. Thirty-five cents, isn't it? Oh, don't bother to make change. That's all right."
"For the Land o' Liberty!" Grandmother exclaimed. "For the land sakes!"
"Why, it is Mother!" cried Elizabeth.