Mrs. Pawket sat down. She fanned herself with her apron.
"Set up to the table and eat, Mawther," feebly advised Mr. Pawket.
The twins, rapidly and scientifically consuming griddle-cakes, jaws working, unemotional eyes watching the effect of their statements, continued:
"They goin' to build on Cedar Plains."
"She's got the ideers."
"He's got the money."
"Just their ice-box alone is goin' to cost 'em two hundred dollars."
Mr. Pawket, with sudden irritation: "Now, now, now, that ain't sensible, that ain't. Willum had ought to have talked it over with me. I'd like to 'a' reasoned with him. I could have showed him catalogues.... And them two buildin' on Cedar Plains—it's onreasonable. It'll come hard on his wife. She won't have no near neighbors; and look at how far they'll have to go for weddin's and fun'rals and all."
Mrs. Pawket, suddenly bethinking her, rose and went into the "front" room, or parlor, where, from a large mantelpiece ranged with sugary-looking vases stuffed with brilliantly dyed grasses she plucked the recently arrived letter. Looking at it upside down and with nonchalance of disapproval, she put the letter before the twins, commanding:
"Do as Grammar tells you and read it."