Fleda was obliged to admit that.
"And she can't eat without she has a fresh piece of roast meat on table every day, can she?"
"It is not always roast," said Fleda, half vexed and half laughing.
"I'd rather have a good dish o' bread and 'lasses than the hull on't;" observed old Mrs. Finn; from the corner where she sat manifestly turning up her nose at the far-off joints on Mrs. Rossitur's dinner-table.
The girls on the other side of the quilt again held counsel together, deep and low.
"Well didn't she pick up all them notions in that place yonder?--where you say she has been?" aunt Syra went on.
"No," said Fleda; "everybody does so in New York."
"I want to know what kind of a place New York is, now," said old Mrs. Finn drawlingly. "I s'pose it's pretty big, ain't it?"
Fleda replied that it was.
"I shouldn't wonder if it was a'most as far as from here to Queechy Run, now, ain't it?"