Cephas did not reply, but he looked ugly as he slapped another piece
of dough heavily upon a plate.
Deborah, as if against her will, moved closer to the table and bent
over the pan of sorrel. She smelled of it; then she took a leaf and
tasted it, cautiously. She made a wry face. "It's sorrel," said she.
"You're makin' pies out of sorrel. A man makin' pies out of sorrel!"
She looked at Cephas like a condemning judge. He shot a fiery glance
at her, but said nothing. He sprinkled the sorrel leaves in the pie.
"Well," said Deborah, "I've got a sense of justice, and if my son, or
any other man, has asked a girl to marry him, and she's got her
weddin' clothes ready, I believe in his doin' his duty, if he can be
made to; but I must say if it wa'n't for that, I'd rather he'd gone
into a family that was more like other folks. I'm goin' to do the
best I can, whether you go half way or not. I'm goin' to try to make
my son do his duty. I don't expect he will, but I shall do all I can,
tempers or no tempers, and sorrel pies or no sorrel pies."
Deborah went out, and shut the door heavily after her.
Chapter IV
After Deborah Thayer had shut the door, the young girl sitting beside
it arose. "I didn't know she was in here, or I wouldn't have come
in," she said, nervously.
"That don't make any odds," replied Mrs. Barnard, who was trembling
all over, and had sunk helplessly into a rocking-chair, which she
swayed violently and unconsciously.
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