The weather was all finished up and disposed of, as a subject, before the simple Missourians had gotten sufficiently wonted to the spectacle of one body feeding two heads to feel composed and reconciled in the presence of so bizarre a miracle.
And even after everybody's mind became tranquilized there was still one slight distraction left: the hand that picked up a biscuit carried it to the wrong head, as often as any other way, and the wrong mouth devoured it.

This was a puzzling thing, and marred the talk a little.

It bothered the widow to such a degree that she presently dropped out of the conversation without knowing it, and fell to watching and guessing and talking to herself: "Now that hand is going to take that coffee to--no, it's gone to the other mouth; I can't understand it; and Now, here is the dark-complected hand with a potato in its fork, I'll see what goes with it--there, the light-complected head's got it, as sure as I live!" Finally Rowena said: "Ma, what is the matter with you?
Are you dreaming about something ?" The old lady came to herself and blushed; then she explained with the first random thing that came into her mind: "I saw Mr.Angelo take up Mr.Luigi's coffee, and I thought maybe he--sha'n't I give you a cup, Mr.Angelo ?" "Oh no, madam, I am very much obliged, but I never drink coffee, much as I would like to.

You did see me take up Luigi's cup, it is true, but if you noticed, I didn't carry it to my mouth, but to his." "Y-es, I thought you did: Did you mean to ?" "How ?" The widow was a little embarrassed again.

She said: "I don't know but what I'm foolish, and you mustn't mind; but you see, he got the coffee I was expecting to see you drink, and you got a potato that I thought he was going to get.