“Lizzie —­ Why you’ve been up all night, Emma says.”

“That’s nothing.  I have been down all day.”

“But what’s the matter with this old woman?”

“I don’t know.  She don’t know herself.”

“But Emma said she thought she was dying?”

“So she did.  I don’t know whether she is right or not.”

“Dying! —­ is she!” said Rose with a little scream.

“I don’t know.  I hope not, so soon as she thinks.  She is no worse to-night.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“Nothing —­ more than I have done.”

“But are you going to stay here?”

“Stay here, Rose! —­”

“Yes —­ I mean —­ who’s going to take care of her?  And isn’t she your cook?”

A curious quick gleam of a laugh passed over Elizabeth’s face; it settled graver than before.

“Clam can cook all you and I want.”

“But who’s going to take care of her?”

“I have sent for help, and for a doctor.”

“Haven’t you sent for a doctor before!  Why Lizzie!”

“I sent early this morning.  The messenger had to go a number of miles.”

“And isn’t there anybody about the house but Clam and Emma?”

“Anderese is here.  I sent somebody else.”

“What use is an old thing like that about a place?”

Elizabeth was silent.  The cloud gathered on Rose’s face, and as if that it might not cast its shadow on her cousin, she looked out of the window.  Then Clam came in.

“Where’ll supper be, Miss ’Lizabeth?”

“Is Karen in the kitchen?”

“Oh! —­ I won’t have tea in there!” said Rose with one of her old little screams.

“Let it be here, Clam.”

“What’ll it be, Miss ’Lizabeth?”

“Anything you please.”

“There’s nothing in the house to be pleased with,” said Clam; “and you’ve had no dinner.”

“Bread and butter and tea —­ and boil an egg.”

“That would be pleasant,” said Clam, capacity and fun shining out of every feature; —­ “but Karen’s hens don’t lay no eggs when she ain’t round.”

“Bread and butter and tea, then.”

“Butter’s gone,” said Clam.

“Bread and cold meat, then.”

“Fresh meat was all eat up days ago; and you and Mis’ Haye don’t make no ’count of ham.”

Elizabeth got up and went out to Anderese and despatched him to Mountain Spring after what forage he could find.  Then from a sense of duty went back to her cousin.  Rose was looking out of the window again when she came in, and kept silence for a little space; but silence was never Rose’s forte.

“Lizzie —­ what makes you live in such a place?”

“It was the pleasantest place I could find,” said her cousin, with a tone of suppressed feeling.

“It’s so lonely!” said Rose.

“It suited me.”

“But it isn’t safe,” said Rose.  “What if something happened to you, with nobody about, —­ what would you do?”