She sat smoking. I contemplated her a very long while and she gazed calmly back. A score of times I tried to speak, but something failed me, and when I attempted to wave my hand in greeting to her I could not lift it from the bed.
At last strength came.
"This is John Shadrack's house?" I said.
"Yes," said she, "and I'm his widder."
[Illustration: "And I'm his widder.">[
She came to my side and stood looking down at me very hard. I saw a woman in the indefinable seasons past fifty. In my vague mental condition, the impression of her came slowly. First it was as though I saw three cubes, one above the other, the largest in the middle. Then these took on clothing, blue calico with large polka dots, and the topmost one crowned itself with thin wisps of hair, parted in the middle and plastered down at the side. So, little by little, John Shadrack's widow grew on me, till I saw her a square little old woman, with a wrinkled, brown face, a perpetual smile and a pipe that snuffled in a homely, comfortable way.
I smiled. You couldn't help smiling when Mrs. John Shadrack looked down at you.
"It's been such a treat to have you," she cried. "I've been enjoyin' every minute of your visit."