Amanda sat at her usual window, sewing on her rug. The sunlight came
in, and her shadow, set in a bright square, wavered on the floor; the
clock out in the kitchen ticked. Amanda looked up when Mrs. Field
entered. "Oh, it's you?" said she. "I wondered who was comin'. Set
down, won't you?"

Mrs. Field went over to Amanda and held out the photograph. "I want
to see if you can tell me who this is."

Amanda took the photograph and held it toward the light. She
compressed her lips and wrinkled her forehead. "Why, it's you, of
course--ain't it?"

Mrs. Field made no reply; she stood looking at her.

"Why, ain't it you?" Amanda asked, looking from the picture to her in
a bewildered way.

"No; it's Esther."

"Esther?"

"Yes, it's Esther."

"Well, I declare! When was it took?"

"About ten years ago, when she was in Elliot."

"Well, all I've got to say is, if anybody had asked me, I'd have said
it was took for you yesterday. Why, Mis' Field, what's the matter?"