"I don't know," said Lois. "Can't one be in love with one's grandmother?"
"But, Lois, this is going to take a great deal of your time."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you want all your time, to give to more important things. I can't bear to have you drop them all to plant potatoes. Could not somebody else be found to do it?"
"We could not afford the somebody, Mrs. Barclay."
It was not doubtfully or regretfully that the girl spoke; the brisk content of her answers drove Mrs. Barclay almost to despair.
"Lois, you owe something to yourself."
"What, Mrs. Barclay?"
"You owe it to yourself to be prepared for what I am sure is coming to you. You are not made to live in Shampuashuh all your life. Somebody will want you to quit it and go out into the wide world with him."
Lois was silent a few minutes, with her colour a little heightened, fresh as it had been already; then, having tramped all round her new bed, she came up to where Mrs. Barclay and her basket of seeds were.