"Tell Mr. Hildreth he'll be a popular man tonight when we have those tomatoes for supper," she added. "The old folks would rather have something they like to eat than any other kind of gift; and our tomatoes are late this year."
Yes, she meant to be kind—one could see that, thought Rosemary, mechanically holding on to Shirley as Solomon speeded up in his haste to reach the home barn.
She was very silent during the return drive and busied with her own thoughts. Richard's quizzical announcement, "This car doesn't go any further—end of the line, lady," woke her from her dreaming to find that they were home.
As she lightly jumped to the ground, she put the gist of her meditations into words:
"No," said Rosemary with conviction. "No, I wouldn't want to live at the poor farm!"
Sarah remained untroubled by any idea of living at the poor farm, but at the supper table that night she had an individual announcement to make.
"All those people weren't deaf," she said placidly.
"How do you know?" Rosemary asked in astonishment.
"I found out," Sarah answered, buttering her mashed potato lavishly.
"But how?" insisted Rosemary, not without anxiety. One never knew what Sarah would do next.