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Supper over and dishes hurried out of sight, the floor was once more cleared and the real business of the evening was resumed. “Moses, you git to the barn an’ hunt the aigs, an’ min’ you look in the haystack; that ole yaller hen has been wantin’ ter set in the nigh corner of it.” “Oh, no; there aren’t any. Billy says so, and he knows. He knows, too, that there are other people here beside the Italians.”.
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Conrad
Balancing her voice on a very high note she popped her head through the dining-room door to speak to her husband. He was seated at the table reading “The Family Herald.” His straggling grey locks were disordered with his mental effort and formed a frieze of irregular design on his shining forehead. Mrs. Wopp’s voice, in a moment, was safe on terra firma. Moses, once seated, speedily overtook the other members of the family. Betty looked at him gravely and remarked, “Moses says nothin’ buts eats purty steady on.” Vainly he explored the corridors seeking a tap for water to bathe his bleeding nose. The more doors Moses went through the more doors seemed to beckon him on through their portals. He reflected that if he had only had the good fortune to bring the key of the pantry door at home, that large piece of cold steel applied to the back of his neck would speedily have stopped the sanguinary flood. “There Nancy,” she whispered, “is a sunbeam for breakfast dipped in milk.”.
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