“She doesn’t like anyone fussing out there,” she whispered, “and I don’t like to ask her to do it herself; it’s extra work no matter how trivial. The Graham crackers will do just as well; Nettie’s quite fond of them.”
It was a cheerful scene, this gathering at the table of Roy, his wife, and their children. Tongues wagged constantly; there was happy laughter and loud talk, much clatter of china and clinking of silverware. Roy stood up to carve and he served generously; plates were passed from hand to hand around the table to Alice who sat opposite him and she added heaping spoonfuls of creamed cauliflower or string beans, and mashed potatoes. The pile of food set down in front of each seemed, by its quantity, unappetizing to Jeannette, but the others evidently did not share her feeling, for they cleaned their plates, while Frank and Baby Roy almost always asked for more. The remarks that flew about the board had small relevancy, but she found them interesting, liked to lean back in her chair, with wrists folded one across the other in her lap, and listen comfortably.
“Mr. Kuntz tells me he’s sold the Carleton place; the Hirshstines bought it,” Roy might observe.
“Oh, golly,—those kikes!”
“Frank, you mustn’t speak that way; Mrs. Hirshstine’s a nice woman, and Abe Hirshstine’s very public-spirited.”
“They may be Jews all right, but I wouldn’t consider them ‘kikes’; there’s a lot of difference.” Ralph’s drawl often had that irritating quality his aunt disliked.
“Well, she’s certainly a dumb-bell, if there ever was one.” Jeannette would infer this was of the daughter.
“That’s because Buddy Eckles’s after her!”
Etta with curling lip would dismiss this without comment.
“He likes to drive her Marmon,—that’s what he’s after.”