rolling off a cabbage leaf. It's sech a blessed sight to see
you, and hear your voice and know you're the woman anybody can see you
be. Why I'm so happy when I set here and con-tem'-plate you, I want
to cackle like a pullet announcin' her first egg. Ain't this porch the
purtiest place?"

"Come see everything," invited the Girl, rising.

Granny Moreland followed with alacrity.

"Bare floors!" she cried. "Wouldn't that best you? I saw they was
finished capital when I was over, but I 'lowed they'd be covered afore
you come. Don't you like nice, flowery Brissels carpets, honey?"

"No I don't," said the Girl. "You see, when rugs are dusty they can be
rolled, carried outside, and cleaned. The walls can be wiped, the floors
polished and that way a house is always fresh. I can keep this shining,
germ proof, and truly clean with half the work and none of the danger of
heavy carpets and curtains."

"I don't doubt but them is true words," said Granny Moreland earnestly.
"Work must be easier and sooner done than it was in my day, or people
jest couldn't have houses the size of this or the time to gad that women
have now. From the looks of the streets of Onabasha, you wouldn't think
a woman 'ud had a baby to tend, a dinner pot a-bilin', or a bakin' of
bread sence the flood. And the country is jest as bad as the city. We're
a apin' them to beat the monkeys at a show. I hardly got a neighbour
that ain't got figgered Brissels carpet, a furnace, a windmill, a
pianny, and her own horse and buggy. Several's got autermobiles, and the
young folks are visitin' around a-ridin' the trolleys, goin' to college,
and copyin' city ways. Amos Peters, next to us; goes bareheaded in the
hay field, and wears gloves to pitch and plow in. I tell him he reminds
me of these city women that only wears the lower half of a waist and no
sleeves, and a yard of fine goods moppin' the floors. Well if that don't
'beat the nation! Ain't them Marthy's old blue dishes?"

"Let me show you!" The Girl opened the little cupboard and exhibited the
willow ware. The eyes of the old woman began to sparkle.

"Foundation or no foundation, I do hope them ramparts is a go!" she
cried. "If Marthy Langston is squintin' over them and she sees her old
chany put in a fine cupboard, and her little shawl round as purty a girl
as ever stepped, and knows her boy is gittin' what he deserves, good
Lord, she'll be like to oust the Almighty, and set on the throne
herself! 'Bout every