“Don’t you go bothering your poor father. He has troubles enough. And I’M housekeeper here.”
“Adam was MINE—Mrs. Johnson gave him to me. You had no business to touch him,” stormed Faith.
“Don’t you get sassy now. The rooster’s killed and there’s an end of it. I ain’t going to set no strange minister down to a dinner of cold b’iled mutton. I was brought up to know better than that, if I have come down in the world.”
Faith would not go down to supper that night and she would not go to church the next morning. But at dinner time she went to the table, her eyes swollen with crying, her face sullen.