"Don't, dear mother. That is what makes you ill. What is the matter? What troubles you?"
Mrs. Copley did not answer at once.
"You are as sweet as a honeysuckle," she said. "And to think that nobody should see you!"
Dolly's dimples came out here strong.
"Are you tormented to death about that?"
Another pause came, and Mrs. Copley finally left the table with the air of one who is thinking what she will not speak. She went to the honeysuckle porch and sat down, resting her head in her hand and surveying the landscape. Twilight was falling over it now, soft and dewy.
"I don't see a sign of anything human, anywhere," she remarked. "Is it because it is so dark?"
"No, mother; there are no houses in sight."
"Nor from the back windows?"
"No, mother."