slammed down the pot in despairing rage.

In the kitchen a table was laid; and Emmy stretched her head back to
peer from the scullery, where she was busy at the gas stove. She did not
say a word. Jenny also was speechless; and went as if without thinking
to the kitchen cupboard. The table was only half-laid as usual; but that
fact did not make her action the more palatable to Emmy. Emmy, who was
older than Jenny by a mysterious period--diminished by herself, but kept
at its normal term of three years by Jenny, except in moments of some
heat, when it grew for purposes of retort,--was also less effective in
many ways, such as in appearance and in adroitness; and Jenny comprised
in herself, as it were, the good looks of the family. Emmy was the
housekeeper, who looked after Pa Blanchard; Jenny was the roving blade
who augmented Pa's pension by her own fluctuating wages. That was
another slight barrier between the sisters. Nevertheless, Emmy was quite
generous enough, and was long-suffering, so that her resentment took the
general form of silences and secret broodings upon their different
fortunes. There was a great deal to be said about this difference, and
the saying grew more and more remote from explicit utterance as thought
of it ground into Emmy's mind through long hours and days and weeks of
solitude. Pa could not hear anything besides the banging of pots, and he
was too used to sudden noises to take any notice of such a thing; but
the pots themselves, occasionally dented in savage dashes against each
other or against the taps, might have heard vicious apostrophes if they
had listened intently to Emmy's ejaculations. As it was, with the
endurance of pots, they mutely bore their scars and waited dumbly for
superannuation. And every bruise stood to Emmy when she renewed
acquaintance with it as mark of yet another grievance against Jenny. For
Jenny enjoyed the liberties of this life while Emmy stayed at home.
Jenny sported while Emmy was engaged upon the hideous routine of kitchen