"Jacob Kalb's wife!" repeated Sarah.
"Yes."
"Well, I'll go down and she can go home," said Sarah. "I—I don't need Jacob Kalb's wife to help. Then I can come back to see Albert."
She remembered afterwards that Aunt 'Liza had begun to speak, and that she had been sharply checked by Uncle Daniel. But she did not wait to hear. Jacob Kalb's wife was only a shade less disagreeable than Jacob himself. She could not bear to think of her touching her milk-pans or going into the spring-house or kitchen. She ran as swiftly as she could down across the fields.
When she reached the kitchen door, she was faint with exhaustion. At first everything was black before her. Then she saw Jacob Kalb's wife standing by the stove. She was a large, fair-haired woman, with strong, bare arms. She had just lifted a pie from the oven and stood with it still in her hands, looking at little Sarah.
"I—I—you needn't bake for me," said Sarah when she could get her breath. "I am much obliged that you did the milking, but you need not bake for me."
"I am baking for myself," answered Mrs. Kalb stolidly.
"Well, you needn't bake here," cried Sarah.
Suddenly there came a rush of comprehension. It seemed for an instant as though she could neither breathe nor think. Her uncle had made Albert sick, he had sent for her to cure him, and then he had sent this woman down here to take possession. She moved a step closer.
"Go out of my kitchen," she commanded thickly. "This is my kitchen, it isn't yours. These are my things, they are not yours. They are not my uncle's. He had no right to send you here. You could be arrested for it. It is stealing. Get out of my kitchen."