"No, now, Susan, she don't, neither, considering her provocations.
She were the smartest, most managing woman in these parts, and I
never did have no faculty, and don't run her house like I ought; and
John is a puny man and not able to do all her bidding; and the young
uns they gits terrible noisy and feisty at times, all but Evy."

"The women" rode with Marthy a mile farther, stopping before a
lonely log-house, with corn-fields climbing to meet the timber
half-way up the mountain in the rear. Marthy ushered her guests
into the porch with the words, "Here 's the fotch-on women, Maw."

The tall, gaunt, forbidding-looking old woman sitting there turned
sightless eyes toward them, putting forth a strong hand.

"Howdy, women," she said grimly. "Git cheers for 'em, Evy."

They seated themselves, and Aunt Dalmanutha resumed her knitting,
swiftly and fiercely, all the pent-up force of a strong nature
thrown into the simple act. Instead of the repose that
characterizes the faces of the blind, her eaglelike countenance bore
the marks of fretful, sullen, caged, almost savage energy.

"Go quick and take a look that 'ere pot of beans, Marthy," she
ordered. "Evy declar's they hain't scorching, but my nose informs
me different'. Take the women's bonnets, Evy, and lay 'em on my
'stead; and round up all the young uns back in the corn-crib, so 's
I can git the benefit of the talk. Now, women," she continued
peremptorily, "I been hearing a whole passel about your doings and
goings and comings these four or five year' gone, and I 'm right