"Aw, not much, just some sody and buttermilk. Don't get up, I'll just get it myself." Edith followed the creaks in the floorboards back to the coolchest, slid the door, took down a quart box (on which the handsome browneyed indian maid knelt in a sunset of butter) and then took a free look in the mirror lining the back of that cool-chest.