Mrs. Edwards looked around at Jerome. "What you standin' there
lookin' for?" said she, with her sharp, nervous voice. "Put them
shoes down, an' bring that quart pail of milk out of the pantry. Be
careful you don't spill it."

Jerome obeyed. When he set the milk-pail on the table, Elmira gave
him a quick, piteously confidential glance from under her tearful
lids. Elmira, with her blue checked pinafore tied under her chin, sat
in a high wooden chair, with her little bare feet curling over a
round, and beat eggs with a wooden spoon in a great bowl.

"What you doin'?" asked Jerome.

Her mother answered for her. "She's mixin' up some custard for pies,"
said she. "I dun'no' as there's any need of you standin' lookin' as
if you never saw any before."

"Never saw you makin' custard-pies at ten o'clock at night before,"
returned Jerome, with blunt defiance.

"Do you s'pose," said his mother, "that I'm goin' to let your father
go off an' die all alone an' take no notice of it?"

"Dun'no' what you mean?"

"Don't you know it's three days since he went off to get that wood
an' never come back?"

Jerome nodded.