She was aroused by Jeb's voice: "Why, what the--the damnation! You've fell asleep!" She started up.

"In a minute!" she muttered, nervously.
And somehow, with Jeb's eyes on her from the doorway, she got the evil-smelling messes from the stove into table dishes from the shelves and then on the table, where the flies descended upon them in troops of scores and hundreds.

Jeb, in his shirt sleeves now, sat down and fell to.

She sat opposite him, her hands in her lap.

He used his knife in preference to his fork, leaping the blade high, packing the food firmly upon it with fork or fingers, then thrusting it into his mouth.