She went back to the kitchen and returned with warm food.
"Yes, I am faint." Mrs. Preston's arms trembled. She laughed nervously as she spilled her tea.
"You are not well? You cannot live so—it's no use," the strong Swede continued monotonously. "The men are bad enough when they are good; but when they are bad, a woman can do nothing."
"Tell me about the strike."
Anna Svenson laughed contemptuously, as if such affairs were a part of men's foolishness.
"They're talking of going out, all the railroad men, if the roads use the Pullmans. That's what John has gone to see about. Work is hard to find, so they're going to make less of it."
She stood easily, her arms by her side, watching Mrs. Preston eat, and talking in an even, unexcited tone.
"Father likes the job I told you about—over at the lumber yards. He came in last Sunday. He says the folks out his way are near starving. Svenson thinks of quitting his job."
She laughed gently.
"Life is like that," Mrs. Preston assented. "You can't manage it."