Sarah Barnard, during all absences of her family, dug busily at imaginary pitfalls for them; had they all existed the town would have been honey-combed.
"There ain't nothin' happened, has there, Cephas ?" she said.
"I dunno of anythin' that's happened." "I got kind of worried.

I didn't know where you was." Sarah had an air of apologizing for her worry.

Cephas made no reply; he did not say where he had been, nor account for his tardiness; he did not look at his wife, standing before him with her pathetically inquiring face.

He pulled a chair up to the table and sat down, and Charlotte set his supper before him.

It was a plate of greens, cold boiled dock, and some rye-and-Indian bread.