She looked hard and indifferent.
"Oh, Charlotte, ain't it dreadful ?" her mother whispered, when Cephas went into the pantry again.
"I don't care if he makes pies out of burrs," returned Charlotte, audibly, but her voice was quite even.
"I don't b'lieve but what sorrel would do some better than burrs," said her mother, "but he can't make pies without short'nin' nohow." Cephas came out of the pantry with a large bowl of flour and a spoon.
"He 'ain't sifted it," Mrs.Barnard whispered to Charlotte, as though Cephas were not there; then she turned to him.

"You sifted the flour, didn't you, Cephas ?" said she.
"You jest let me alone," said Cephas, grimly.

"I'm goin' to make these pies, an' I don't need any help.

I've picked the sorrel, an' I've got the brick oven all heated, an' I know what I want to do, an' I'm goin' to do it!" "I've got some pumpkin that would make full as good pies as sorrel, Cephas.

Mebbe the sorrel will be real good.