"I'm jest as much obliged to you for invitin' me, but I guess I'd
better be goin'."

"My sister is expecting you. You remember my sister, Mrs. Lowe. I've
just sent word to her. You had better come right over to the house
with me now, and to-morrow morning we can attend to business. You
must be fatigued with your journey."

"I'm real sorry if your sister's put herself out, but I guess I'd
better not stay."

The lawyer turned his ear interrogatively. "I beg your pardon, but I
didn't quite understand. You think you can't stay?"

"I'm--much obliged to your sister an' you for invitin' me, but--I
guess--I'd better--not."

"Why--but--Mrs. Maxwell! Just be seated again for a moment, and let
me speak to my sister; perhaps she--"

"I'm jest as much obliged to her, but I feel as if I'd better be
goin'." Mrs. Field stood before him, mildly unyielding. She seemed
to waver toward his will, but all the time she abided toughly in her
own self like a willow bough. "But, Mrs. Maxwell, what _can_ you do?"
said the lawyer, his manner full of perplexity, and impatience thinly
veiled by courtesy. "The hotel here is not very desirable, and--"

"Can't I go right up to--the house?"

"The Maxwell house?"