"Take you in! And why shouldn't they?"
"But you know, pa, they fix up so. And—" The little girl stopped, seeming to feel it somewhat difficult to make her father understand the situation.
"So it's fine feathers, is it?" And now there was a decided gruffness in his voice.
But they had reached the door of the cottage, and the cat jumped down from the chair and brushed against the legs of her master. There was tea to be made, and the chicken to be dished; but the father did the latter, after having washed carefully. The potatoes were given the place of honor and the two sat down to do the meal justice.
"We might have had some eggs, seeing it's Easter," said the man, passing one of the largest potatoes to the little girl.
"Lutty Williams' mother colored hers. Lutty said I might have one of them, if I'd come over for it."
"Guess I wouldn't go to Lutty Williams' for no eggs, if I was in your place!" said the father.
This somewhat dampened the little girl's ardor, and the rest of the meal was partaken of in silence.
The dishes were cleared away and the red table-cloth replaced. "No use in Jerusha's being bothered," the wise Martha reasoned, as she replaced the white linen in the drawer. Then she unbuttoned the big gingham apron she had put on over the white one, and felt inclined to send the white apron after the table-cloth. But something kept her from doing this. "It's Easter anyhow."
Her father had taken the cat on his lap, and in a chair tipped back against the wall, with a broom splint between his teeth, sat reading the county paper.