"That other later kind will be ready by the time the lima beans are ripe." "That 'll go nice for succotash," said Sylvia, taking another stitch.
"That's what I was thinking," said Henry.
He sat staring out upon the front yard, and he was in reality thinking, with pleasant anticipations, of the succotash.

Now that he was back in his old track at the shop, his appetite was better, and he found himself actually dreaming about savory dishes like a boy.
Henry's pleasures in life were so few and simple that they had to go a long way, and lap over onto his spiritual needs from his physical ones.
Sylvia broke in upon his visions of succotash.

She was straining her eyes to see the road beyond the front yard.

"What time is it ?" she asked.

"Do you know ?" "It was half-past five by the kitchen clock." "They ain't in sight yet." Sylvia stared and frowned at the distance.
"This house does set too far back," she said, impatiently.
"Now, Sylvia, I wouldn't give up a mite of this front yard." "I'd give it all up if I could see folks go past.