For a week they had not spoken.

Their old age was racked by a sharp and furious jealousy, which was quite exclusive and not less exacting than their earlier passion of love.
With a finishing swirl of the big wooden spoon, the last drops of mush fell into grandfather's bowl, while a sly and injured look appeared instantly on the face of his wife.

She was not hungry, but it annoyed her unspeakably that she should not be given the larger portion of food.
Her rheumatism was severer than her husband's, and it seemed to her that this alone should have entitled her to the greater share of attention.
There was a fierce contempt in her manner when she alluded to his age or to his infirmities, for although he was three years her elder, he was still chirpy and cheerful, with many summers, as she said resentfully, left in him yet.
"Breakfast is ready, grannies," remarked Sarah, who had allowed her coffee to grow cold while she looked after the others; "are you ready to eat ?" Grandmother's sly little eyes slanted over her hooked nose in the direction of the two bowls which her daughter-in-law was about to sprinkle with sugar.

An idea entered her old head which made her chuckle with pleasure, and when her mush had been covered, she croaked out suddenly that she would take her breakfast unsweetened.

"I'm too bad to take sugar--give that to him--he has a stomach to stand it," she said.
Though her mouth watered for sweets, by this trick she had outwitted grandfather, and she felt that it was better than sugar.
The kitchen was a large, comfortable room, with strings of red peppers hanging from the ceiling, and boards of sliced apples drying on upturned flour barrels near the door.