her nourishment too, if she's goin' to take care of your mother."

When Maria returned from the ice-box, which stood out in the
woodshed, with a plate of cold potatoes, Mrs. White was sniffing at
the coffee-pot.

"For goodness sake, who made this?" said she.

"Father."

"How much did he put in?"

"He put in a little pinch."

"It looks like water bewitched," said Mrs. White. "Bring me the
coffee canister. You know where that is, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Maria watched Mrs. White pour out the coffee which her father had
made, and start afresh in the proper manner.

"Men are awful helpless, poor things," said Mrs. White. "This sink is
in an awful condition. Did your father empty all this truck in it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, I must clean it out, as soon as I get the other things goin',
or the dreen will be stopped up." Mrs. White's English was not
irreproachable, but she was masterful.