when we was both gray."

"I shouldn't have thought 'twould. Well, I must say, I shouldn't
dream but what that picture was meant for you."

Mrs. Field took her way out of the room.

"How's Lois this mornin'?" Amanda called after her.

"About the same, I guess."

"I saw her goin' out of the yard this mornin', an' I thought she
walked dreadful weak."

"I guess she don't walk any too strong."

When Mrs. Field was in her own room she stowed away the photograph in
the shell box; then she got a little broom and brushed the shell-work
carefully; she thought it looked dusty in spite of her rubbing.

When the dusting was done it was time for her to get her dinner
ready. Indeed, there was not much leisure for Mrs. Field all day. She
seldom sat down for long at a time. From morning until night she kept
up her stiff resolute march about her house.

At half-past twelve she had the dinner on the table, but Lois did not
come. Her mother went into the sitting-room, sat down beside a
window, and watched. The town clock struck one. Mrs. Field went
outdoors and stood by the front gate, looking down the road. She saw
a girl coming in the distance with a flutter of light skirts, and she