“Oh, I can’t this morning. I have a hundred errands to attend to, and I must get back in time to get lunch for my family. I lost my maid; isn’t it terrible down here? You can’t keep a girl for a week. I don’t mind cooking for my husband, but I do draw the line at being cook for the hired men. And the coarse things they like! You can’t always cook a double meal. And I lost one of the best workers we ever had, that was when we first came here, because he didn’t like the food I gave him. Stuffed eggs, and Waldorf salad. What do you think of that? It’s quantity they want, and that man went off and said I’d starved him.”
“Do come in,” urged Gerty, squinting at the sun.
“I can’t. I’d like to, but I can’t. My husband likes his meal prompt, and the men simply come in and sit down, and watch you until it’s ready.”
“Yes, I know,” interposed the other, half-blinded. “But surely you can stay a minute. I have so many things to tell you.”
“I, too. I want to have the ladies of the Improvement Club in to tea before I go out; I think it will be Friday. After I sound the ladies a little, I’ll let you know.”
“Last year, she would have had me set the day.” Gerty was on the outlook for stings; she felt that she had lost her position in the valley set.
“Of course, that includes Miss Hardin,” added Mrs. Youngberg, drawing up the reins.
“I wanted to talk to you about the drive,” cried Mrs. Hardin. “It is to be on the second. Will you take this as the invitation, or must I write to you?”
“Please, don’t write.” And Mrs. Youngberg was driving off when a thought seemed to strike her.
“I saw the levee as I was driving past. What in the world is that for? Does Mr. Hardin think there will be bigger floods than we’ve had already? Isn’t the New River deep enough to carry all the flood waters?”