"Well," cried Mrs. Tomkins, "I never heard of such a thing."
"There's lots you never heard of, Mrs. Tomkins," said Mrs. Ploughman.
"And plenty I never hope to hear," said Mrs. Tomkins promptly. "My life!"
After breakfast, Anna helped her mother with the housework. She took a hand in making the beds, and put her own room in order by tumbling everything into the closet and shutting the door. Then she went into the kitchen to help with the lunch. When Mrs. Barly saw her dreaming over the carrots, she asked:
"What are you gaping at now?"
"Nothing."
Then Mrs. Barly grew vexed. "You're not feeble-minded, I hope," she said.
"No, I'm not," said Anna.
"I'm glad of that," said Mrs. Barly.
When Anna said that she was not thinking of anything, she believed that she was telling the truth. But as a matter of fact, she was thinking of Thomas Frye. She wanted him to be in love with her, although she said to herself: "I am not in love with any one." Sometimes she thought that her heart was buried in France, with Noel Ploughman. However, she was mistaken. The tear she dropped in secret over his death, was for her own youth, out of her timid, clumsy, sweet-and-sour feelings.