That came like an inspiration a few
moments later, when Miss Penelope was off guard for an instant. Her back
was turned only long enough for her to go to the table and see if the
tray was ready for the coffee-pot, but the widow Broadnax found this
plenty of time. With a quickness truly surprising in one of her habitual
slowness, she swooped down and seized the cup of buttermilk and paint.
In a flash she lifted the lid of the coffee-pot, poured the contents of
the cup in the coffee, set the empty cup down in its place, and was back
again, resting among the cushions as if she had never stirred, when poor
little Miss Penelope, all unsuspecting, returned to her post.
"You really must get up, Sister Molly," that lady said resolutely,
renewing an altercation. "I hid the pantry keys under your chair
cushions at supper, last night. That's always the safest place. But I
forgot to take them out before you sat down. And you must get up--there
isn't enough sugar for the coffee."
"Let me," said Ruth, coming forward with a smile, in her pretty, coaxing
way.
When the antagonism between the sisters broke into open hostility, it
was nearly always she who managed to soothe them and restore a temporary
semblance of peace--for beyond that no mortal power could go.
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