other conversation in low tones, carried on behind her. The voices were carefully subdued.
"I hear Dicer isn't going to take her back."
"Still, with the roads the way they have been, no car could"
"Dicer says she didn't go to Easton at all. He thinks she went to the Res"
"Sh!"
Mrs. Mallory opened the sliding doors. She was highly flushed from excitement and the stove.
"Come right in while everything's hot," she said. "And I guess some of you ladies will have to bring in your chairs."
There was a move toward the dining room, a little suppressed laughter, a small confusion. Kay found herself moving in, sitting down; later she found herself eating. Great platters of fried chicken passed around, light biscuits, vegetables, honey. She even talked.
"No, we didn't ship anything this year. Maybe next year, if we're lucky"
"Well, I know that place. It's a good house, but it's lonely."
Food. More food. Wheat. Sugar beets. The five-and-ten, newly opened. The negro who had tried to kill a sheriff's deputy. Ice cream.
"Any of you ladies have some more ice-cream? We haven't made a dent in the freezer yet."
The early self-consciousness was wearing off, the talk was louder, more cheerful. When they went back into the parlor Mrs. Mallory urged Nellie to play the piano for them, and Nellie simpered and complied. She had been taking lessons for a year. They sat politely silent while she hammered away, their tired hands folded again, their strong bodies relaxed. They were comforted with good food they had not cooked themselves, they need not even talk. With natural good manners they kept their eyes from Kay. She had brought a bit of romance into their busy lives, for a little time they had seen their beautiful arid land through her eyes; they were even consumed with curiosity about her. But they kept their eyes away.
