Floyd, as she
followed her daughter to the kitchen.
Chapter XVII
Sue Dawson leaned on the front gate at the Bradleys'.
"Hello! Hello! Hello! in thar!" she cried, in a shrill, piping voice.
No one replied. "I'm a good mind to go in anyway," she thought. "I
reckon they hain't got no bitin' dog." She raised the iron ring from
the post and drew the sagging gate through the grooves worn in the
pebbly ground and entered the yard. The front and back doors were
open, and she could see a portion of the back yard through the hall.
No one seemed to be in the house. A young chicken had hopped up the
back steps, crossed the entry, and was stalking about in the hall
chirping hollowly, as if bewildered by its surroundings. Across the
rear door a sudden gust of wind blew a wisp of smoke, and then it
occurred to Mrs. Dawson that some one might be in the back yard. She
drove the chicken before her as she stalked through the hall.
Martha Bradley was making soap. With her back to the house, she was
stirring a boiling mixture of grease and lye in a large wash-pot.
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