Part 32 (1/2)

Suddenly Jane Maxwell spoke. She was pale, and her head-dress was askew.

”I call this pretty work,” said she.

Then Mrs. Babc.o.c.k faced her. ”I should call it pretty work for somebody else besides poor Mis' Field,” she cried. ”I'd like to know what business your folks had takin' her money an' keepin' it. She wa'n't goin' to take any more than belonged to her, an' she had a perfect right to, accordin' to my way of thinkin'.”

Mrs. Maxwell gasped. Flora laid her hand on her arm when she tried to speak again.

”I'm goin' to tell her how I've been without a decent dress, an' how I've been luggin' my own things out of this house, an' now I've got to lug 'em all back again,” she whispered defiantly.

”Mother, you keep still,” said Flora.

Mrs. Green went across the room and put her arm around Lois, standing by her mother. ”Let's you an' me get her in her bedroom, an' have her lay down on the bed, an' try an' quiet her,” she whispered. ”She's all unstrung. Mebbe she'll be better.”

Mrs. Field at once turned toward her.

”I ain't Esther Maxwell,” said she.

”O Mis' Field! oh, poor woman! it ain't for us to judge you,”

returned Mrs. Green, in her tender, inexpressibly solemn voice.

”Come, Lois.”

”Yes, that'll be a good plan,” chimed in Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. ”She'd better go in her bedroom where it's quiet, or she'll wind up with a fever.