That's a good riddance of bad rubbish!
She comes to the table and continues packing the basket.
You'd better help me with this basket. Them folks will starve to death, if the neighborhood round don't give 'em a bite to eat.
Rhoda fetches other articles from the cupboard.
I'd like to know what they think we are made of, with butter at twenty-five cents a pound and flour worth its weight in diamonds!
Rhoda.
All the neighbors are helping, and none of them with our cause for thankfulness.
Martha.
That's no sign you should go plasterin' on that butter like you was a bricklayer tryin' to bust the contractor!
She takes the bread from Rhoda and scrapes the butter thin.