Mrs. Lathrop clung to her in a heart-wrung silence. Both the friends
were deeply affected, feeling that this journey was a something quite
apart from Susan's ordinary every-day little expeditions to the city.
Finally Miss Clegg withdrew her hand, straightened out the resultant
wrinkles in her mitt, and stalked away. Mrs. Lathrop sighed sadly,
returned to her own rocker, and entered upon the course of a long day
of patient waiting.

It was about three in the afternoon that, to her great surprise, she
saw Miss Clegg returning. There was something altogether new and
strange in the gait of the latter while she was at a distance, and as
she drew nearer Mrs. Lathrop's eyes and mouth opened together. The
nearer that Susan drew the more provocative of astonishment was her
general appearance. To sum up the whole state of the case in as few
words as possible, I will say that she seemed to have barely survived
some hitherto totally unknown species of catastrophe. Mrs. Lathrop,
much overcome, ran to the door and cried,--

"Come over! I've got the kettle--"

"I was comin' anyhow," Susan called feebly back, and wearily dragging
herself through the gate, along the walk, and up the steps, sank down
finally in one of the kitchen chairs.

Mrs. Lathrop hastened to fortify her with hot tea and gingerbread. She
ate and drank in silence for some time, only volunteering, as she took
the third cup,--

"I ain't had nothin' since I left home."