"That yellow weed is goldenrod," explained Miss Claire. "Do you remember the names of any of the other wild-flowers I taught you a year ago, Martha?"
"Well, not so's you'd notice it. Lemme see! P'raps I do. Wasn't there a sort o' purple flower you called Johnny-pie-plant?"
Mrs. Ronald laughed. "Joepyeweed, yes. You got the idea."
"An' then, there was wild buckwheat, an' Jewel-weed an'—now, what's the matter with me, for a farmer? Don't I know a thing or two about the country?"
"You certainly do."
"An' I know the name o' some too," asserted Cora. "Brides-lace, and Love-in-a-mist, and——"
"Sweet Sibyl of the Sweat-shop, or——"
"Mother, I think you're real mean!" Cora cried, anxious to prevent further betrayal.
"Say, ladies an' gen'lmen, I hate to break up this pleasant ent'tainment, but I guess you don't realize how long we been dreamin' the happy hours away, like Miss Frances Underwood used to sing, before she married Judge Granville—which they ain't so happy now, not on your life, poor dear! I think we better get a move on, or we'll get soaked good and plenty. It's my opinion we're goin' to have a shower."
Claire did not attempt to argue the point. It was too evident that something was really going to happen.