her whole body. She cleared her throat sharply. It was like a
premonitory click of machinery before motion, and Lois waited, numb
with fear, for what she might say. Suppose she should suddenly
suspect, and should cry out, "Is this woman here Esther Maxwell?"

But all Mrs. Maxwell's thoughts were on her absent daughter. "I don't
see where she is," said she. "Here she's got to make cream-tarter
biscuits for tea, an' it's 'most time for the folks to come."

"I'm afraid we came too early," said Mrs. Field.

"Oh, no, you didn't," returned Mrs. Maxwell politely. "It ain't half
as pleasant goin' as late as they do here when they're asked out to
tea. You don't see anything of 'em; they begin to eat jest as soon as
they come, an' it seems as if that was all they come for. The
old-fashioned way of goin' right after dinner, an' takin' your
sewin's, a good deal better, accordin' to my way of thinkin', but
they ain't done so for years here. Elliot is a pretty fashionable
place. I s'pose it must be very different up in Green River, where
you come from?"

"Yes, I guess 'tis," said Mrs. Field.

The front gate clicked, and Mrs. Maxwell peered cautiously around a
lace curtain. Two ladies in their best black dresses came up the
walk, stepping with a pleasant ceremony.

"There's Mis' Isaac Robbins an' Ann 'Liza White," Mrs. Maxwell
whispered agitatedly. "I shall have to go right out in the kitchen
an' make them biscuits the minute they get here. I don't see what