"Nothin'."
"Come in the other room and I'll play for you."
Flora shook a dreary head. Fred, with a shrug of impatience, sat down at the other end of the table. The fire in the stove was out and the kitchen was cold and damp; except for the lisping wash of the lake and the faint fall of Flora's cards, everything was very still. Fred watched the cards for a moment without speaking, then abruptly brushed them all aside and clapped her warm young hand on Flora's thin wrist. The movement made the lamp flicker, and on the opposite wall two shadowy heads nodded at each other.
"Now, Flora," she said, "we'll have this out! What is the matter?"
"I tell you, Miss Freddy, there ain't nothin' the matter."
"There is! You're awfully depressed."
"I'm used to that."
"But why? Come now, you've got to tell me!"
Flora dropped her head on her arms and began to cry.
"Flora! Flora! What shall I do with you? You are so silly!"