As she worked, she heard the high, shrill voices of the old people
as they bustled about and nagged at each other.
"Ma, where's my specticles?"
"I ain't seen y'r specticles."
"You have, too."
"I ain't neither."
"You had 'em this forenoon."
"Didn't no such thing. Them was my own brass-bowed ones. You
had yourn jest 'fore goin' to dinner. If you'd put 'em into a proper
place you'd find 'em again."
"I want'o know if I would," the old man snorted'.
"Wal, you'd orter know."
"Oh, you're awful smart, ain't yeh? You never have no trouble, and
use mine-do yeh?-an' lose 'em so't I can't
"And if this is the thing that goes on when I'm here, it must be hell
when visitors are gone," thought Will.
"Willy, ain't you goin' to meetin'?"
"No, not today. I want to visit a little with Agnes, then I've got to
drive back to John's."
"Wal, we must be goin'. Don't you leave them dishes f't me to
wash," she screamed at Agnes as she went out the door. "An' if we
don't get home by five, them caaves orter be fed."
As Agnes stood at the door to watch them drive away, Will studied
her, a smothering ache in his heart as he saw how thin and bent
and weary she was.
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