"Nothin', only your uncle Daniel has asked that Maxwell woman an' her
niece to dinner, an' they're goin' to stay."

"My goodness! there isn't a thing for dinner!" said Flora, with a
half-giggle. She was so young and healthy and happy that she could
still see the joke in an annoyance.

Her uncle looked at her beseechingly. "Can't you manage somehow?"
said he. "I'll go down to the store and buy something."

"Down to the store!" repeated his sister, contemptuously. "It's one
o'clock now."

He looked at the kitchen clock, visible through the open door, and
saw that it indicated half-past twelve, but he said nothing.

Flora was frowning reflectively, while her cheeks dimpled. "I tell
you what I'll do, mother," said she. "I'll go over to Mrs. Bennett's
and borrow a pie. I think we can get along if we have a pie."

"I ain't goin' round the neighborhood borrowin'; that ain't the way
I'm accustomed to doin'."

"Land, mother! I'd just as soon ask Mrs. Bennett as not. She borrowed
that bread in here the other night."

"There ain't enough steak to go round; there's jest that little piece
we had left from yesterday, an' there ain't enough stew," said her
mother, with persistent wrath.