"Good-mornin', Mis' Thayer.

Come in an' set down, won't you ?" "I 'ain't come to set down," responded Deborah's deep voice.
She moved, a stately high-hipped figure, her severe face almost concealed in a scooping green barege hood, to the centre of the floor, and stood there with a pose that might have answered for a statue of Judgment.

She turned her green-hooded head slowly towards them all in turn.

Sarah watched her and waited, her eyes dilated.
Cephas rolled out another pie, calmly.

Charlotte knitted fast; her face was very pale.
"I've come over here," said Deborah Thayer, "to find out what my son has done." There was not a sound, except the thud of Cephas's rolling-pin.
"Mr.Barnard!" said Deborah.