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Yellett, squatting erect on the prairie, crowned by her rabbit-skin cap. Mary and Judith, with bland, impassive expressions, noted the effect of the mandate. There was not the faintest symptom of rebellion; each Brobdingnag accepted the matriarch’s edict without a murmur. With an air of further meditation on the efficacy of brown paper and vinegar at the crucial moment, Mrs.
The matriarch’s dominant personality evoked many a smile even from those most deeply conscious of her worth; but it wasn’t like Peter to make a spectacle of his ruggedly honest neighbor. Nevertheless she remarked, coolly: "I sha’n’t be able to bring your shirt-waist things up Tuesday, I’m afraid, Mrs. Yellett, but I’ll try to bring them towards the end of the week."
As Mary clambered down she heard a fragment of the matriarch’s monologue, which, being duly expurgated for polite ears, was to the effect that she would rather take ten babies anywhere than one grown man, and that as for getting in the way, hindering, obstructing, and being a nuisance, generally speaking, man had not his counterpart in the scheme of creation.
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