Her father, with an air of angry helplessness, was emptying the coffee-pot into her mother's nice sink.

Maria stood trembling at his elbow.

"I don't believe that's where mother empties it," she ventured.
"It has got to be emptied somewhere," said her father, and his tone sounded as if he swore.

Maria shrank back.

"They've got to have some coffee, anyhow." Maria's father carried the coffee-pot over to the stove, in which a freshly kindled fire was burning, and set it on it, in the hottest place.