As Lovey Mary trudged along the railroad-tracks, she was unconscious
of the pleasant changes of scenery. The cottages became less frequent,
and the bare, dusty commons gave place to green fields. Here and there
a tree spread its branches to the breezes, and now and then a snatch
of bird song broke the stillness. But Lovey Mary kept gloomily on her
way, her eyes fixed on the cross-ties. The thoughts surging through
her brain were dark enough to obscure even the sunshine. For three
nights she had cried herself to sleep, and the "nervous sensations"
were getting worse instead of better.

"Just two months since Kate was hurt," she said to herself. "Soon as
she gets out the hospital she'll be trying to find us again. I believe
she was coming to the factory looking for me when she got run over.
She'd just like to take Tommy away and send me to jail. Oh, I hate her
worse all the time! I wish she was--"

The wish died on her lips, for she suddenly realized that it might
already have been fulfilled. Some one coughed near by, and she started
guiltily.

"You seem to be in a right deep steddy," said a voice on the other
side of the fence.

Lovey Mary glanced up and saw a queer-looking old woman smiling at her
quizzically. A pair of keen eyes twinkled under bushy brows, and a
fierce little beard bristled from her chin. When she smiled it made
Lovey Mary think of a pebble dropped in a pool, for the wrinkles went
rippling off from her mouth in ever-widening circles until they were
lost in the gray hair under her broad-brimmed hat.