“Don't, Lois, don't,” she kept saying, in a solemn, agitated voice. “The Lord will overrule it all; it is He speakin' in it.”
The women watched while the street filled with people, and the barn burned down. It did not take long. The storm began to lull rapidly. The thunder came at long intervals, and the hail turned into a gentle rain. Finally Mrs. Field went out into the kitchen to prepare supper, and Lois followed her.
“I never see anything like the way she acts,” said Mrs. Babcock cautiously.
“She always was kind of quiet,” rejoined Mrs. Green.
“Quiet! She acts as if she'd had thunder an' lightnin' an' hail an' barns burnt down every day since she's been here. I never see anybody act so queer.”
“I 'most wish I'd stayed to home,” said Amanda.
“Well, I wouldn't be backin' out the minute I'd got here, if I was you,” returned Mrs. Babcock sharply. “It's comin' cooler, that's one thing, an' you won't need that white sacque. I should think you'd feel kinder glad of it, for them shoulder seams did look pretty long to what they wear 'em. An' I dare say folks here are pretty dressy. I declare I shall be kinder glad when supper's ready. I feel real faint to my stomach, as if I'd like somethin' hearty. I should have gone into one of them places in Boston if things hadn't been so awful dear.”
But when Mrs. Field finally called them out to partake of the meal which she had prepared, there was little to satisfy an eager appetite. Nothing but the berries for which she had toiled so hard, a few thin slices of bread, no butter, and no tea, so little sugar in the bowl that the guests sprinkled it sparingly on their berries.
“I'll tell you what 'tis,” Mrs. Babcock whispered when they were upstairs in their chambers that night, “Mis' Field has grown tight since she got all that money. Sometimes it does work that way. I believe we should starve to death if we stayed here long. If it wa'n't for gittin' my money's worth, I should be for goin' home to-morrow. No butter an' no tea after we've come that long journey. I never heard of such a thing.”
“I don't care anything about the butter and the tea,” rejoined Amanda, “but I 'most feel as if I'd better go home to-morrow.”