“Is Mis' Maxwell to home? I heard she'd come here to live,” repeated the woman, in a deprecating way. She smoothed down the folds of her over-skirt. Lois started; the color spread over her face and neck. “No, she isn't at home,” she said sharply.
“Do you know when she will be?”
“No, I don't.”
The woman's face also was flushed. She turned about with a little flirt, when suddenly a door slammed somewhere in the house. The woman faced about, with a look of indignant surprise.
Lois said nothing. She opened the front door and went into the house, straight through to the kitchen, where her mother was preparing breakfast. “There's a woman out there,” she said.
“Who is it?”
“I don't know. She wants to see—Mrs. Maxwell.”
Lois looked full at her mother; her eyes were like an angel's before evil. Mrs. Field looked back at her. Then she turned toward the door.
Lois caught hold of her mother's dress. Mrs. Field twitched it away fiercely, and passed on into the sitting-room. The woman stood there waiting. She had followed Lois in.
“How do you do, Mis' Maxwell?” she said.