Charlotte shoved open the kitchen door with both hands, slamming it into the wall. “Miss Charlotte, gently with the door!” Tabby ordered. She was at the large sink, peeling potatoes. “That wall was just whitewashed and there you go scuffing it. That’s not like you.” Charlotte pulled up a stool next to Tabby. “Don’t scold me, Tabby. I’ve just had a blazing row with Emily.” She began to arrange the carrots on the table in order of length. Tabby chuckled. Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Pray tell, Tabitha, what is so amusing?” “We’ve been wondering when you and Emily would have words. Your father thought the peace would last at least another day. I knew better.” “That’s outrageous,” Charlotte sputtered. “Just because Emily is aggravation personified.” She put her elbows on the kitchen table and rested her chin in her hands. Tabby, from long practice, let Charlotte fume in silence. “I don’t like being predictable,” she complained finally. Tabby looked up from her peeling.
