you've done, lettin' his son have your money an' everything."

Amanda spoke with stern warmth. She had known about this grievance of
her neighbor's for a long time.

"I'm goin' down there," repeated Mrs. Field.

"I would," said Amanda.

"I hate to leave Lois," said Mrs. Field; "but I don't see any other
way."

"I'll take her," said Amanda, "if you're willin' to trust her with
me."

"I've got to," replied Mrs. Field.

"Well, I'll do the best I can," replied Amanda.

She was considerably shaken. She felt her knees tremble. It was as if
she were working a new tidy or rug pattern. Any variation of her
peaceful monotony of existence jarred her whole nature like heavy
wheels, and this was a startling one.

She wondered how Mrs. Field could bring herself to leave Lois. It
seemed to her that she must have hopes of all the old man's property.

After Mrs. Field had gone home, and she, primly comfortable in her
starched and ruffled dimities, lay on her high feather-bed between
her smooth sheets, she settled it in her own mind that her neighbor