Mrs. J. (with sympathy). Are you an invalid?
Miss T. No, I aint sick yet, but there’s no knowin’ how soon I may be. My mother died young, and died suddenly, too. I expect to go in the same way.
Mrs. J. I hope not. (A pause.) We have rooms which, with board, vary from twelve to twenty dollars per week.
Miss T. My sakes! That’s an awful price, aint it? But then I might as well spend my money for board as to leave it for my relations to quarrel over.
Mrs. J. That certainly is a better way.
Miss T. (mournfully). Perhaps you wouldn’t think it, from my comin’ here to get boarded; but I’ve got three sisters and two brothers, and they’re all watchin’ to see if I aint goin’ to get sick an’ die, so they can have my money.
Mrs. J. You’d better come here to board, then. I dare say it would be the means of prolonging your life.
Miss T. Do you think so? I wish I could believe it, though (dismally) I haint got nothin’ to live for. But then, if I aint to live long, it would be a comfort to spend my last days in peace. I’ve had a great many troubles and trials in my time.
Mrs. J. I am sorry to hear it.
Miss T. Yes, I lost my best friend just six days before we were to be married. If he’d only lived one week longer, I might have been a desolate relict instead of a lonely single woman.