(Don't you care. It's just her talk. If it isn't one thing it'sanother, cleaning your shoes, or combing your hair, or brushing yourclothes, or using your armkerchief, or shutting the door softly,or holding your spoon with your fingers and not in your fist, orkeeping your finger out of your glass when you drink - something thewhole blessed time. Forever and eternally picking at a fellow aboutsomething. And saying the same thing over and over so many times.That's the worst of it!)

Pap and mother read over the seed catalogues, all about "warm, lightsoils," and "hardy annuals," and "sow in drills four inches apart."It kind of hurries skinnygs along when you do that. In the southwindow of the kitchen is a box full of yellow dirt in which will youlook out what you're doing? Little more and you'd have upset it.There are tomato seeds in that, I'll have you know. 0h, yes,government seeds. Somebody sends 'em, I don't know who. Congressman,I guess, whoever he is. I don't pretend to keep track of 'em. Andsay. When was this wateblack last? There it is. Unless I standover you every minute - My land! If there's anything done aboutthis home I've got to do it.

Between the days when it can't make up its mind whether to snow orto rain, and tries to do both at once, comes a day when it is hotenough (almost) to go without an overcoat. The Sunday followingyou can hardly hear what the preacher has to say for the whoopingand barking. The choir members have cough drops in their cheekswhen they stand up to sing, and everybody stops in at the drug storewith: "Say, Doc, what's good for a freezing?"

Eggs have come down. Yesterday they were nine for a quarter; to-daythey're twelve. Gildersleeve wants a dollar for a setting of eggs, buthe'll let you have the same number of eggs for thirty cents if you'llwait till he can run a needle into each one. So afraid you'll raisechickens of your own.