"But what is all this, Sarepta?" asked Kitty. On the shining table sat a number of plump little bags, of stout unbleached cotton, bearing brief inscriptions in blackest ink. Kitty took them up one by one, and read in wonder: "Eggs," "Tomatoes," "Sarce." "What in the world, Sarepta?" Sarepta, standing rigid, her hands folded in her apron, made austere reply. "There was no reason as I know of why things should go to waste. Your Ma wasn't fit to see to 'em before she went away. There wasn't no need she should. I should hope I knew _something_! This--" she took up the stoutest bag, "is the egg and chicken money. The hens has done real well; I've sold eggs and broilers and roosters. You count that!" She named a sum. "I expect it's right." "Sarepta! you dear, good soul! How could you--" "This is sarce!" Sarepta continued, taking up another bag. "Sugar was low and fruit was high, so I done well there too. I made two hundred glasses of currant jell, and three hundred of grape, and--" "But, Sarepta! What did you do with them all?" "Sold 'em! Mis' Flynt wasn't puttin' up, herself, this year, didn't want to bother with it. No more did Miss Bygoods. And Mr. Mallow gi' me the hull of his order, so you see--" "I see!" Kitty became thoughtful. "Sarepta--" "Well!" the answer was a snap, thrown backward over an uncompromising shoulder. Sarepta was suddenly very busy at the stove, rattling and raking with much commotion. "Sarepta! You didn't--you didn't _ask_ for these orders, did you?" Sarepta turned round; her face was like an iceberg carved with a jackknife. "Was your Pa satisfied with me?" "Sarepta! You know he adored you!" "Was your Ma satisfied with me?" "Sarepta dear! Don't be cantankerous!" "_Was_ your Ma satisfied with me?" "Of course she was! How can you--" "I made sarce before you was born or thought of!" Sarepta's tone expressed finality. "I've always made it--and I've never took it!" she added with a grim chuckle which splintered the iceberg in a singular way. "Anything else?" Sarepta's tone was amiable, but conveyed the idea that she had things to do, however it might be with other people. "Just one thing, Sarepta dear, and then I'll go. Have you taken your wages out of this money? If not, hadn't we better settle it now?" Sarepta made no immediate reply. Instead, she examined the draughts of the stove one by one, with meticulous care. Apparently satisfied with their condition, she next proceeded to brush the stove top (which did not need brushing) and to fill the kettle with ostentatious zeal. Kitty waited patiently, enjoying the kitchen and stroking the yellow cat. Finally, Sarepta washed her hands elaborately, rolled them in her apron, and turned round. So turning, she displayed the iceberg set again in rigid lines. The words appeared to freeze as they dropped from her lips. Sarepta had come to this house with Kitty's Ma, she intimated, when first she come here a bride.