"I have never considered my eyesight, Gabriella."
"I know you haven't, and that's why you ought to begin."
As it was really growing too dark to see, Mrs. Carr rolled the thread back on the spool, stuck the needle into the last buttonhole, and folding the infant's dress on which she was working, laid it away in her straw work-basket.
"Will you light the gas, Gabriella?"
"Don't work any more to-night, mother. It is almost supper time."
Without replying, Mrs. Carr moved with her basket to a chair under the chandelier. Once seated there, she unfolded the dress, took the needle from the unfinished buttonhole, and tried again unsuccessfully to run the thread through the eye. Then, while Gabriella rushed to her aid, she removed her glasses and patiently polished them on a bit of chamois skin she kept in her basket.
"Don't you feel as if you could eat a chop to-night, mother?"
"I haven't been able to swallow a morsel all day, Gabriella."
"I've saved you a little cream. Shall I make you a toddy?"
"I don't want it. Drink it yourself, dear."