She heard the dizzy din of the bees, the sleepy grinding of the grass hoppers, the sough of the solitary pine at the door, and then behind them all a whizzing, machine-like sound.

This particular sound went on and on.
She opened the door of the next room.

Her mother sat at a sewing-machine intent upon some work, the needle eating up a spreading piece of cloth.
"What are you making, mother ?" Kitty asked.

"New blinds for Mr.Kerry's bedroom-he likes this green colour," the widow added with a slight flush, due to leaning over the sewing-machine, no doubt.
"Everybody does everything for him," remarked the girl almost pettishly.
"That's a nice spirit, I must say!" replied her mother reprovingly, the machine almost stopping.
"If I said it in a different way it would be all right," the other returned with a smile, and she repeated the words with a winning soft inflection, like a born actress.
"Kitty-Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!" declared her mother, and she bent smiling over the machine, which presently buzzed on its devouring way.

Three people had said the same thing within a few minutes.