"Mary, did you get those quilts to cover the piano?" His crisp query broke into her thoughts.
With a start, "On the cherry table, dear."
A contented mumble reached her; evidently the mislaid coverings had been found.
She stirred herself, and called the girls, Eleanor and Sue. "Will you bring father the pile of pictures on my dresser, children?"
They skipped quietly up the stairs.
In a few moments they chattered back through the dining-room, where Mary was adjusting the linen into a cedar chest. Sue stumbled over a corner of the carpet; several unframed photographs slipped out of her arms. Her father looked up impatiently. She recovered them in a moment, and spread them on the bare table.
"Mother, this is me, isn't it? 'N' this is Pelham, 'n' the baby picture is Hollis—isn't it, mother? Nell says it's Pell too."
"That's Hollis, children. Hurry: your father is waiting; he's ready to pack them."
The girls reluctantly went on, arguing over the identity of a befrizzed, balloon-sleeved aunt.
She heard her eldest son in the kitchen now, asking Aunt Sarah if she too were going to the new home. Sarah had been her mammy, and had taken care of all four of the children.