Maria stealthily moved it back while he was searching for the coffee in the pantry.

She did not know much, but she did know that an empty coffee-pot on such a hot place would come to ruin.
Her father emerged from the pantry with a tin-canister in his hand.
"I've sent a telegram to our aunt Maria for her to come right on," said he, "but she can't get here before afternoon.

I don't suppose you know how much coffee your mother puts in.

I don't suppose you know about anything." Maria realized dimly that she was a scape-goat, but there was such terrible suffering in her father's face that she had no impulse to rebel.

She smelled of the canister which her father held out towards her with a nervously trembling hand.