“I guess she don't walk any too strong.”
When Mrs. Field was in her own room she stowed away the photograph in the shell box; then she got a little broom and brushed the shell-work carefully; she thought it looked dusty in spite of her rubbing.
When the dusting was done it was time for her to get her dinner ready. Indeed, there was not much leisure for Mrs. Field all day. She seldom sat down for long at a time. From morning until night she kept up her stiff resolute march about her house.
At half-past twelve she had the dinner on the table, but Lois did not come. Her mother went into the sitting-room, sat down beside a window, and watched. The town clock struck one. Mrs. Field went outdoors and stood by the front gate, looking down the road. She saw a girl coming in the distance with a flutter of light skirts, and she exclaimed with gladness, “There she is!” The girl drew nearer, and she saw it was Ida Starr in a dress that looked like Lois'.
The girl stopped when she saw Mrs. Field at the gate. “Good-morning,” said she.
“Good-mornin', Ida.”
“It's a beautiful day.”
Mrs. Field did not reply; she gazed past her down the road, her face all one pale frown.
The girl looked curiously at her. “I hope Lois is pretty well this morning?” she said, in her amiable voice.
Mrs. Field responded with a harsh outburst that fairly made her start back.