If you'd had the cookin' to do for four men-folks, the way I have, you'd felt it was pretty hard work, even if you did make out to fill 'em up." Mrs.Babcock smiled, and showed that she did not forget she was company, but her tone was quite fierce.
"Mebbe I should," returned Amanda, stiffly.
There was a silence.
"Let me see, how many mats does that make ?" Mrs.Babcock asked, finally, in an amiable voice.
"Like this one ?" "Yes." "This makes the ninth." Mrs.Babcock scrutinized the floor.

It was almost covered with braided rugs, and they were all alike.
"I declare I don't see where you'll put another in here," said she.
"I guess I can lay 'em a little thicker over there by the what-not." "Well, mebbe you can; but I declare I shouldn't scarcely think you needed another.

I shouldn't think your carpet would wear out till the day of judgment.

What made you have them mats all jest alike ?" "I like 'em better so," replied Amanda, with dignity.
"Well, of course, if you do there ain't nothin' to say; it's your carpet an' your mats," returned Mrs.Babcock, with grim apology.
There were two curious features about Amanda Pratt's parlor: one was a gentle monotony of details; the other, a certain savor of the sea.
It was like holding a shell to one's ear to enter Amanda's parlor.
There was a faint suggestion of far-away sandy beaches, the breaking of waves, and the rush of salt winds.

In the centre of the mantel-shelf stood a stuffed sea-gull; on either side shells were banked.