"We won't speak of it again," said Mrs. Jay. "I'll bid you
good-mornin', Mis' Maxwell." Her voice shook, she held up her black
skirt, and never looked around as she went down the steps.

Mrs. Field returned to the kitchen. Lois sat beside the window, her
head leaning against the sash, looking out. Her mother took some
biscuits out of the stove oven and set them on the table with the
coffee. "Breakfast is ready," said she.

She sat down at the table. Lois never stirred.

"You needn't worry," said Mrs. Field, in a sarcastic voice;
"everything on this table is bought with your own money. I went out
last night and got some flour. There's a whole barrelful in the
buttery, but I didn't touch it."

Lois drew her chair up to the table, and ate a biscuit and drank a
cup of coffee without saying a word. Her eyes were set straight
ahead; all her pale features seemed to point out sharply; her whole
face had the look of a wedge that could pierce fate. After breakfast
she went out of the room, and returned shortly with her hat on.

"Mother," said she.

"What is it?"

"You'd better know what I'm going to do."

"What are you goin' to do?"