“I feel well 'nough,” said she. “I guess it's the light.”
“Well, mebbe 'tis,” replied Amanda, still looking anxiously at her. “Of course you know if you feel well, but you do look dreadful white to me. Don't you want some water, or a swaller of cold tea?”
“No, I don't want a single thing; I'm well enough.” Mrs. Field's tone was almost surly. She held out her hand for the photograph. “I must be goin',” she continued; “I ain't got my dustin' done. I jest come across this, an' I thought I'd show it to you, an' see what you said.”
“Well, I shouldn't have dreamed but what it was yours; but then you an' your sister did look jest alike. I never could tell you apart when you first came here.”
“Folks always said we looked alike. We always used to be took for each other when we was girls, an' I think we looked full as much alike after our hair begun to turn. Mine was a little lighter than hers, an' that made some difference betwixt us before. It didn't show when we was both gray.”
“I shouldn't have thought 'twould. Well, I must say, I shouldn't dream but what that picture was meant for you.”
Mrs. Field took her way out of the room.
“How's Lois this mornin'?” Amanda called after her.
“About the same, I guess.”
“I saw her goin' out of the yard this mornin', an' I thought she walked dreadful weak.”