She felt this morning disposed to go out of her way to sting, and as if some primal and evil instinct had taken possession of her.

She felt shocked at herself, but all the more defiant and disposed to keep on.
"Breakfast is ready," she announced, finally; "if you don't set right up an' eat it, it will be gettin' cold.

I wouldn't give a cent for cold Injun cake." Charlotte arose promptly and brought a chair to the table, which Sylvia always set punctiliously in the centre of the kitchen as if for a large family.
"Don't scrape your chair on the floor that way; it wears 'em all out," cried Sylvia, sharply.
Charlotte stared at her again, but she said nothing; she sat down and began to eat absently.

Sylvia watched her angrily between her own mouthfuls, which she swallowed down defiantly like medicine.
"It ain't much use cookin' things if folks don't eat 'em," said she.
"I am eating," returned Charlotte.
"Eatin'?
Swallowin' down Injun cake as if it was sawdust! I don't call that eatin'.

You don't act as if you tasted a mite of it!" "Aunt Sylvy, what has got into you ?" said Charlotte.
"Got into me?
I should think you'd talk about anything gettin' into me, when you set there like a stick.