"I git 'em out'n the nesses, whar they b'long," she asserted, tossing her wrapped plaits scornfully.
"Yer ain't got but one hen an' I done see yo' maw a-wringing her naick this ve'y mawnin'."
"What'n if'n yer did? That ole blue hen been layin' two three times er day lately, an' my maw she says she mus' about laid out by this time, so she up'n kilt her fer the barsket fun'ral goin' on at de same time of de big meetin'. But laws a mussy! Do you know she was that full er aigs that it war distressful?" The child's eyes were wistful at the remembrance.
"Well, well! Nobody can't tell 'bout women an' hens. It seems lak nobody don't speak up an' testify how much good they is in some sisters 'til they is dead an' gone. Same way with hens! Same way with hens! Is yo' maw gwinter bile it or bake it?"
"Sh'ain't 'cided. If'n yer bile it yer gits soup extry an' if'n yer bake it yer gits stuffin' an' graby."
I was thankful for the little training I had in mathematics when it was up to me to convert eggs into flour. Some problem! I put in a little extra flour to make sure and the child skipped off.
At this juncture the Tucker twins, Mary Flannagan, and a troop of young men from Maxton blew in. I was secretly relieved that Miss Wilcox was not of the party. Not that I minded her seeing me keep store, but I had a feeling she might be a little scornful of Annie Pore.
"Where is Annie?" cried Dum.
"We are nearly dead to see her," declared Dee.
"Gone driving with Sleepy. I am keeping store in her absence. His Lord High Muck-a-Muck has embarked for Richmond."