"There ain't anything the matter."

"Why, you look dreadfully."

Mrs. Field's face was pale, and there was a curious look about her
whole figure. It seemed as if shrinking from something, twisting
itself rigidly, as a fossil tree might shrink in a wind that could
move it.

"I feel well 'nough," said she. "I guess it's the light."

"Well, mebbe 'tis," replied Amanda, still looking anxiously at her.
"Of course you know if you feel well, but you do look dreadful white
to me. Don't you want some water, or a swaller of cold tea?"

"No, I don't want a single thing; I'm well enough." Mrs. Field's
tone was almost surly. She held out her hand for the photograph. "I
must be goin'," she continued; "I ain't got my dustin' done. I jest
come across this, an' I thought I'd show it to you, an' see what you
said."

"Well, I shouldn't have dreamed but what it was yours; but then you
an' your sister did look jest alike. I never could tell you apart
when you first came here."

"Folks always said we looked alike. We always used to be took for
each other when we was girls, an' I think we looked full as much
alike after our hair begun to turn. Mine was a little lighter than
hers, an' that made some difference betwixt us before. It didn't show