"Well, I'm glad she isn't sick," said the girl, her radiant absent
eyes turned upon the minister, who was talking with some one at the
desk. "She wasn't out to meeting, and I didn't know but she might
be."

"She thought she wouldn't--" began Mrs. Field, but the girl was gone.
The minister had started down the other aisle, and she met him at the
door.

Several other people inquired for Lois as Mrs. Field made her way
out; some had heard she was ill in bed. She had an errand to do at
the store on her way home; when she reached it she went in, and stood
waiting at the counter.

There were a number of men lounging about the large, rank,
becluttered room, and there were several customers. The village
post-office was in one corner of the store. There were only two
clerks besides the proprietor, who was postmaster as well. Mrs. Field
had to wait quite a while; but at last she had made her purchases,
and was just stepping out the door, when a voice arrested her. "Mis'
Field," it said.

She turned, and saw the postmaster coming toward her with a letter in
his hand. The lounging men twisted about and stared lazily. The
postmaster was a short, elderly man with shelving gray whiskers, and
a wide, smiling mouth, which he was drawing down solemnly.

"Mis' Field, here's a letter I want you to look at; it come this
mornin'," he said, in a low voice.