"
"Bad!"--the rocker stopped abruptly. "Why, Nathan!"
"Yes; he--" There was a pause, then the words came with the rush of
desperation. "He said home wan't like home no more. That Katy was as
good as gold, an' they was proud of her; but she was turrible upsettin'.
Jim has ter rig up nights now ter eat supper--put on his coat an' a
b'iled collar; an' he says he's got so he don't dast ter open his head.
They're all so, too--Mis' Hopkins, an' Sue, an' Aunt Jane--don't none of
'em dast ter speak."
"Why, Nathan!--why not?" "'Cause of--Katy. Jim says there don't nothin'
they say suit Katy--'bout its wordin', I mean. She changes it an' tells
'em what they'd orter said."
"Why, the saucy little baggage!"--the rocker resumed its swaying, and
Mary Kelsey's foot came down on the porch floor with decided, rhythmic
pats.
The man stirred restlessly.
"But she ain't sassy, Mary," he demurred. "Jim says Katy's that sweet
an' pleasant about it that ye can't do nothin'. She tells 'em she's
kerrectin' 'em fur their own good, an' that they need culturin'. An' Jim
says she spends all o' meal-time tellin' 'bout the things on the table,
--salt, an' where folks git it, an' pepper, an' tumblers, an' how folks
make 'em. He says at first 'twas kind o' nice an' he liked ter hear it;
but now, seems as if he hain't got no appetite left ev'ry time he sets
down ter the table.
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