“I hope you don't feel hurt?”
“No, I don't. I sha'n't give way so again.” She poured the boiling water into the teapot, and set it on the stove.
Amanda looked at a covered dish on the stove hearth. “What was you goin' to have for dinner?” said she.
“Lamb broth. I'm goin' to heat up some for her. She didn't eat hardly a mouthful of breakfast.”
“That's jest the thing for her. I'll get out the kettle and put it on to heat. I dun'no' of anything that gits cold any quicker than lamb broth, unless it's love.”
Amanda put on a cheerful air as she helped Mrs. Field. Presently the two women carried in the little repast to Lois.
“She's asleep,” whispered Amanda, who went first with the tea.
They stood looking at the young girl, stretched out her slender length, her white delicate profile showing against the black arm of the sofa.
Her mother caught her breath. “She's got to be waked up; she's got to have some nourishment, anyhow,” said she. “Come, Lois, wake up, and have your dinner.”
Lois opened her eyes. All the animation and defiance were gone from her face. She was so exhausted that she made no resistance to anything. She let them raise her, prop her up with a pillow, and nearly feed her with the dinner. Then she lay back, and her eyes closed.