milk jug.

Potatoes were seized, cut in halves, sopped in gravy, and taken
one, two! Corn cakes went into great jaws like coal into a steam
engine. Knives in the right hand cut and scooped gravy up. Great,
muscular, grimy, but wholesome fellows they were, feeding like
ancient Norse, and capable of working like demons. They were
deep in the process; half-hidden by steam from the potatoes and
stew, in less than sixty seconds from their entrance.

With a shrinking from the comments of the others upon his regard
for Agnes, Will assumed a reserved and almost haughty air toward
his fellow workmen, and a curious coldness toward her. As he
went in, she came forward smiling brightly.

"There's one more place, Will." A tender, involuntary droop in her
voice betrayed her, and Will felt a wave of hot blood surge over
him as the rest roared.

"Ha, ha! Oh, there'd be a place for him!"

"Don't worry, Will! Always room for you here!"

Will took his seat with a sudden angry flame. "Why can't she keep
it from these fools?" was his thought. He didn't even thank her for
showing him the chair.

She flushed vividly, but smiled back. She was so proud and happy,
she didn't care very much if they did know it. But as Will looked at
her with that quick angry glance, and took his seat with scowling