Mrs. Field muttered a feeble assent.

"I'd know you anywhere, but you didn't have any color to lose to make
a difference. You've always looked jest the way you do now since I've
known you. I lived in this house a whole year with you once. I come
here to live after Mr. Maxwell's wife died. My name is Jay."

Mrs. Field stood staring. The woman, who had been looking in the
glass while she talked, gave her front hair a little shake, and
turned toward her inquiringly.

"Won't you sit down in this rockin'-chair, Mis' Jay?" said Mrs.
Field.

"No, thank you, I guess I won't set down, I'm in a little of a hurry.
I jest wanted to see you a minute."

Mrs. Field waited.

"You know Mr. Maxwell's dyin' so sudden made a good deal of a change
for me," Mrs. Jay continued. She took out her handkerchief and wiped
her eyes softly; then she glanced in the glass. "I'd had my home here
a good many years, an' it seemed hard to lose it all in a minute so.
There he came home that Sunday noon an' eat a hearty dinner, an'
before sunset he had that shock, and never spoke afterward. I've
thought maybe there were things he would have said if he could have
spoke."

Mrs. Jay sighed heavily; her eyes reddened; she straightened her