"Not enough to kill," said one of the younger men. "You c'n see that by the houses we live in—that is, most of us. A few that came in early an' got land cheap, like McIlvaine, here—he got a lift that the rest of us can't get."
"I'm a free-trader, myself," said one young fellow, blushing and looking away as Howard turned and said cheerily:
"So'm I."
The rest semed to feel that this was a tabooed subject—a subject to be talked out of doors, where a man could prance about and yell and do justice to it.
Grant sat silently in the kitchen doorway, not saying a word, not looking at his brother.
"Well, I don't never use hot vinegar for mine," Mrs. McIlvaine was heard to say. "I jest use hot water, and I rinse 'em out good, and set 'em bottom-side up in the sun. I do' know but what hot vinegar would be more cleansin'."
Rose had the younger folks in a giggle with a droll telling of a joke on herself.
"How d' y' stop 'em from laffin'?"
"I let 'em laugh. Oh, my school is a disgrace—so one director says. But I like to see children laugh. It broadens their cheeks."
"Yes, that's all hand-work." Laura was showing the baby's Sunday clothes.