The whole afternoon was spent in this way, the silences growing longer and heavier as time dragged on. Still Aunt Maggie made no move to go.
"And where's the baby clothes, Judy?" she inquired. "Fetch 'em an' let me have a look at the dear little things."
"I hain't got any made yet, Aunt Maggie," answered Judith, putting a stick of wood into the fire.
"What, no baby clothes yet! Why, Judy Pippinger, hain't you 'shamed of yerse'f? Why, I'd a thought you'd 'a' bin sewin' fer the baby this four months back."
"How many months' sewin does it take to cover a little infant a foot long?" inquired Judith. "I 'lowed I could run 'em all up in a day on the old machine at dad's."
Aunt Maggie was aghast at this sacrilege.
"I never put in a stitch for one o' my babies that wa'n't done by hand," she proclaimed self-righteously.
Judith mentally reviewed the members of Aunt Maggie's family, a heavy, snub-nosed, dull-eyed swarm, and wondered in just what way they showed the benefits of hand-sewn baby clothes. But she said nothing. Aunt Maggie was too dominating and forceful a personality to have her prejudices challenged.
At last the February day began to gray to a close. The little window admitted less and less light; and Judith, hoping to hasten Aunt Maggie's departure, lighted the lamp.
"It's sinful to waste kerosene, Judy," commented her visitor. "You could 'a' gone a good half hour more 'ithout the light. 'Waste not, want not,' is a true sayin'. Well, I'll hev to be a-gittin' back home an' see to supper an' the milkin'. The young uns don't stir hand ner foot if I hain't there to tell 'em."