CHAPTER IV
the home guard
Early next morning, Nelly was off for her school. Kitty, after waving her good-bye from the gate, went back into the house; into the kitchen, where she knew Sarepta was expecting her. "You come out quick as you get shet of her!" had been the mandate, which Kitty would never have thought of disobeying.
"Dear kitchen!" she said. "I saw nothing like this, in Europe, Sarepta!"
"I expect not!" said Sarepta, with a lift of her chin. "Take a seat!"
Kitty sat down obediently in a Windsor chair, and looked about her with great content. Her eyes passed from the shining stove to the cupboard full of beautiful old blue crockery, the pride of Sarepta's heart; to the scarlet geraniums in the window, the yellow cat on her scarlet cushion. All good, all delightful. She had come home.
"But what is all this, Sarepta?" asked Kitty.
On the shining table sat a number of plump little bags, of stout unbleached cotton, bearing brief inscriptions in blackest ink. Kitty took them up one by one, and read in wonder: "Eggs," "Tomatoes," "Sarce."
Sarepta, standing rigid, her hands folded in her apron, made austere reply.
"There was no reason as I know of why things should go to waste. Your Ma wasn't fit to see to 'em before she went away. There wasn't no need she should. I should hope I knew something! This—" she took up the stoutest bag, "is the egg and chicken money. The hens has done real well; I've sold eggs and broilers and roosters. You count that!" She named a sum. "I expect it's right."