“Are the dishes horrid?” demanded Carin, fearing the worst in the matter of china.
“No!” cried Azalea in the tone of one who makes a discovery. “They’ve pink towers on them and pictures of trees. Oh, Carin, see, they’re like that plate your mother has! Aren’t they the dears?”
“Mis’ Ravenel left them plates and cups,” volunteered Mis’ Cassie. “She said when she put ’em on the shelves that she did hope they’d fall into the hands of some one who would set store by them. They was what she used and she was mighty particular about them, but it was such a chore toting things down the mountains and she’d had such a lot o’ trouble that she just left things behind her.”
“Well, about all we brought was clothes and bedding,” said Miss Zillah. “Sister Adnah wanted me to bring along dishes and pictures and curtains and all manner of things, but I said ‘No, wait. We won’t be needing pictures or curtains, where there’s a picture out of every window and no one to be looking in at night, and if we’ve no other dishes we can eat out of gourds.’”
Miss Zillah gave one of her odd little laughs—one of the gypsy laughs in which she sometimes indulged.
“It’s a fit home for anybody,” she decided. “I can’t hardly wait to get my hands on it and clean it up.”
“Well, let’s don’t wait,” cried Azalea. “Mr. McEvoy can bring our things right here when he comes, can’t he, Mrs. McEvoy. Oh, yes, and is there a place for the ponies?”
“No,” Mis’ Cassie told them. “The ponies is to be kept at our place. Miles will fetch ’em when you want them.”
“Some one is coming,” said Azalea under her breath. “I saw some one walking along the road.”
“Why, Azalea, anybody would think you were Robinson Crusoe. Why should you be so surprised to see anybody coming down the road?” asked Carin.