“Gutteridges were going to have a turkey-roast to-morrow. The presiding elder was at their house. Yes, their sewing was done; she finished Mandy’s black quilted petticoat to-day. Mandy and ’Lizabeth both had new shawls that their father had paid six dollars apiece for, at the woolen factory in Newark; stripes and crossbars. Ridenour’s little boy was so he could sit up; the doctor thought the fever was broke. The Bankses were all going to take dinner at granny’s. And some folks said one of Harris’s girls was to be married to-morrow, but it might be all talk. There wasn’t much chance of snow, but it was a cold night outside. Didn’t Sweetness hear the wind across the roof? It was a good thing our clapboards were on so tight.”
So this one-sided conversation went on until the little old woman was quite filled. Then Wilda made her snug, as if attending an infant, and fed Bounce, and sat down alone at the table.
Scarcely were the clean pewter and crockery in place again, and the wheel set out where the table had been, and Wilda bundled ready to go out, when a knock sounded on the door.
She opened it, and exclaimed as she always did,—
“Well, I declare! here’s Lanson. Come in, Lanson, and take a chair.”
“Gimme your milk bucket,” responded Alanson.
“I was just starting to milk, Lanson. Don’t you bother yourself with it to-night.”
But he took her pail. And Wilda, smiling, laid off her wraps and made the hearth very clean, and plumped up the settee cushions.
When Alanson handed the frothing pail into the door, without putting foot over the threshold, he glanced at the fireplace.
“Want another log brought in to-night?”