Publisher's Synopsis
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1920 edition. Excerpt: ... an ancestral invasion And Other Stories A master-hand at bees mary ellen, you jest let that kettle alone; I'm goin' to 'tend to it myself as soon as ever I can. I'll git round to it before noon." "I'd jest as soon wash it as not; I'm pretty nigh through with the moppin'," said Mary Ellen in a muffled tone, her head bent over the mop that she was twisting vigorously, holding the handle tightly between her knees; her mouth working with every twist of the dripping cloth, while her eyes travelled along the last strip of floor to be wiped dry. "I don't want you should, let it alone." Sarah Emma's voice came from the buttery; the words were emphasized by thuds of the rollingpin as it flattened out the dough of the seed cakes, ready for the cutting out. Sarah Emma was hurrying to get her baking done and out of the way. Mary Ellen was hurrying to get her mopping done and the floor dried. They were both working with a righteous frenzy, a perfect debauch of New England conscience. The Sewing Circle of the Baptist Church at Four Corners was to meet at their house, the one annual society function under their roof. There were still many things to be done. Mary Ellen was to run up to the store, over the hill, to get a pound of black tea. Both she and Sarah Emma always drank green tea; so did most of the folks up their way, except the minister's wife; she came from the city and so she drank black tea. This seemed a distinction between lay and official religion, and it would have been most indecorous of them to have failed to provide the more chastened drink. In her haste Mary Ellen accidentally hit, with the handle of her mop, the kettle that stood on the stone hearth, and was the cause of the flurried dispute. "Now, Mary Ellen, be you goin' to let t