The elder girl’s lips tightened. For an instant she paused in her work-- but for only an instant.
“I know,” she said feverishly; “but we mustn’t give up--we mustn’t!”
“But how can we help it? It grows worse and worse. She wants us to go out--to sing, dance, and make merry as we used to.”
“Then we’ll go out and--tell her we dance.”
“But there’s the work.”
“We’ll take it with us. We can’t both leave at once, of course, but old Mrs. Austin, downstairs, will be glad to have one or the other of us sit with her an occasional afternoon or evening.”
Margaret sprang to her feet and walked twice the length of the room.
“But I’ve--lied so much already!” she moaned, pausing before her sister. “It’s all a lie--my whole life!”
“Yes, yes, I know,” murmured the other, with a hurried glance toward the bedroom door. “But, Meg, we mustn’t give up--’twould kill her to know now. And, after all, it’s only a little while!--such a little while!”
Her voice broke with a half-stifled sob. The younger girl shivered, but did not speak. She walked again the length of the room and back; then she sat down to her work, her lips a tense line of determination, and her thoughts delving into the few past years for a strength that might help her to bear the burden of the days to come.