“Face is next door to the mouth. Guess I want to see what sort of food that heathen’s got ready for us, ’fore I touch it!”
“Oh, Aunt Sally! In my house–can’t you trust me?” asked the hostess, with mild protest. Though she knew before she spoke that her will as opposed to Mrs. Benton’s, at least in minor matters, was powerless. So she quietly brought a book and offered it to Mr. Hale, with the suggestion that he make himself content for the present.
“The dinner will be delayed and there will be a rumpus in the kitchen. But the dinner will be all the better for waiting and the rumpus will end in Wun Lung taking another rest while Aunt Sally does his work. Fortunately, she is a prime cook, and we shall fare sumptuously every day. I’d be glad to keep her here, always, if I could.”
“Old Ephraim Marsh did not appear to share your sentiments,” and he described “Forty-niner’s” behavior and remarks at first sighting Mrs. Benton’s wagon.
“Then you found him. He’s come back with you? Oh! I am so thankful. Sobrante wouldn’t seem itself without that straightforward, honest old man.”
“You are certain he is that?” asked, rather than asserted, the other.
“As certain as that there is honesty anywhere. What can you mean? Why do you seem so doubtful?”
“I don’t wish to be a talebearer, but another of your adoring proteges is in dire trouble. Elsa has been robbed and accuses this unfortunate person of being the culprit.”
“Such a thing would be impossible.”
“So it seemed to me. Yet that old Wolfgang finally got it through his head–he appeared duller of wit than his wife–that to lose sight of Ephraim was to lose the money forever. Your little daughter promised to produce him when needed, and after considerable opposition they allowed him to come away. I fancy they began to suspect me even. I fear, madam, I have visited Sobrante at an unfortunate time.”