Sophie was silent.
"Who'll dig her grave?"
One of my bits of mental foam that strike the shore of sound.
"Anna, how queer you are growing! What made you think of such a thing?"
"I don't think my thoughts, Sophie."
But I did watch the church-yard that day. No one came near it, and my knitting-work grew, and my mystery in the tower was as dark as ever, when at set of sun Aaron came home.
"There is a sorry time up there," he said. "The old lady died in the night, and Miss Lettie is quite beside herself. Doctor Eaton was there when I came away, and says she will have brain-fever."
"Oh, I hope not!" said Sophie.
"Who is there?" I asked.
"No one but Abraham. I offered to let Sophie come, but he said no."