"Tell 'em it ain't the day for sweets an' they ain't goin' to have meat
an' molasses the same day," she remarked as she entered the kitchen.
"If I didn't watch you every minute, you'd make yo'selves sick with
overeatin'."
"I reckon you're right, Sary," piped grandfather in angry tones, "but
I ain't so sure I wouldn't rather have the sickness than the watchin'.
It's hard on a man of my years an' experience that he shouldn't be
allowed to project with his own stomach."
"You'd have been dead long ago but for me, an' you ought to be ashamed
of yo'self for talkin' such foolishness. As if I hadn't wo' myself out
with waitin' on you, an' no blood relation."
"No blood relation!" chimed in grandmother maliciously, "no blood
relation!"
"Well, you hurry up an' get ready for dinner, for I'm goin' out
afterwards."
"Whar on earth are you goin', Sary? It ain't Sunday."
"It don't matter to you whar I'm goin'--you jest set right up an' eat
yo' soup."
When she had poured the contents of the pot into the two earthenware
bowls, she crumbled a piece of bread into each, and gave the dinner into
the trembling hands which were stretched out eagerly to receive it.
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