Her hair was of that light-brown shade in which plentiful gray made little change of shade; it was wound in a knot at the back of her head and gave her trouble.

She was always pushing it up and repinning it into place, as if it were too heavy for her small head.
"I wonder if there's anything to eat in the house," her son said.
"I wonder." They moved together toward the ice-box.
"Mother," said Pete, "that piece of pie has been in the ice-box at least three days.

Let's throw it away." She took the saucer thoughtfully.
"I like it so much," she said.
"Then why don't you eat it ?" "It's not good for me." She let Wayne take the saucer.

"What do you know ?" she asked.
She had adopted slang as she adopted most labor-saving devices.
"Well, I do know something new," said Wayne.

He sat down on the kitchen table and poured out his tea.