she read another. At half-past four o'clock, Mrs. White, who had been
casting distressed glances at me, rose and stole out on tiptoe.

I knew why she did so; Mrs. Bemis' hired girl next door was baking
her biscuits for her that she need not heat her house up, and she had
brought them in. I heard the kitchen door open.

Presently Mrs. White stole in again and tried to listen politely to
the reading, but her expression was so strained to maintain interest
that one could see the anxiety underneath. I knew what worried her
before she told me, as she did presently. "I have rolled those
biscuits up in a cloth," she whispered, "but I am dreadfully afraid
that they will be spoiled."

Mrs. Jameson began another selection, and I did pity Mrs. White. She
whispered to me again that her table was not set, and the biscuits
would certainly be spoiled.

The selection which Mrs. Jameson was then reading was a short one,
and I saw Mrs. White begin to brighten as she evidently drew near the
end. But her joy was of short duration, as Mrs. Jameson began another
selection.

However, Mrs. White laid an imploring hand on Flora Clark's arm when
she manifested symptoms of rising and interrupting the reading. Flora
was getting angry--I knew by the way her forehead was knitted and by
the jerky way she sewed. Poor Harriet Jameson looked more and more
distressed. I was sure she saw Mrs. White holding back Flora, and
knew just what it meant. Harriet was sitting quite idle with her
little hands in her lap; we had set her to hemming a ruffle for the