“I shouldn't wonder if she was. I ain't seen her go out anywhere.”
“Well, I dun'no' when I've been in there, an' I dun'no' but she'd think it was kinder queer if I went right into the house and didn't go near her.”
Amanda arose, letting the mat slide to the floor, and went into the bedroom to get Mrs. Babcock's bonnet and light shawl.
“I wish you wouldn't be in such a hurry,” said she, using the village formula of hospitality to a departing guest.
“It don't seem to me I've been in much of a hurry. I've stayed here the whole afternoon.”
Suddenly Mrs. Babcock, pinning on her shawl, thrust her face close to Amanda's. “I want to know if it's true Lois Field is so miserable?” she whispered.
“Well, I dun'no'. She don't look jest right, but she an' her mother won't own up but what she's well.”
“Goin' the way Mis' Maxwell did, ain't she?”
“I dun'no'. I'm worried about her myself—dreadful worried. Lois is a nice girl as ever was.”
“She ain't give up her school?”