"Are both your parents living?" asked Margaret with what seemed to Lizzie persistent evasion.
"My mother died last summer," she returned in a matter-of-fact, almost cheerful tone of voice. "Pop had her to Phil-delph-y and she got sick for him, and he had to bring her right home, and in only half a day's time, she was a corpse already!" said Lizzie brightly.
"As though she expected me to say, 'Hurrah! Good for Mother!'" thought Margaret wonderingly.
"Did you inherit, too, from your parents?" persisted her inquisitor.
"All my virtues and all my vices, I believe," answered Margaret, turning away and walking to the door. "Shall we go down now?"
Lizzie took a step after her: "Maybe you think I spoke too soon?" she asked anxiously.
"'Spoke too soon?'"
"Asking you what you're worth. To be sure it ain't any of my business. But I thought I'd ask you once. Hiram would be so pleased if after you go I could tell him. He wonders so, did his brother Danny do as well as he did. But I guess I spoke too soon."
She paused expectantly.
"Never mind," said Margaret dully, again turning away.