“I guess Lois will have to take a little vacation,” said Mr. Starr.  “I guess I shall have to see about it, and let her have a little rest.”

He was one of the school committee.

“I don’t need any vacation,” said Lois, in a peremptory tone.

“I guess we shall have to see about it,” repeated Mr. Starr.  There was an odd undertone of decision in his drawling voice.  He was a large man, with a pleasant face full of double curves.  “Good-day,” said he, after a minute.  “I guess I must be goin’.”

“Good-day,” said Lois.  “I’m much obliged to you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

Amanda nodded politely when he withdrew, but Mrs. Field never looked at him.  She stood with her eyes fixed upon Lois.

“What are you looking at me so for, mother?” said Lois, impatiently, turning her own face away.

Mrs. Field sank down on her knees before the sofa.  “Oh, my child!” she wailed.  “My child! my child!”

She threw her arms around the girl’s slender waist, and clung to her convulsively.  Lois cast a terrified glance up at Amanda.

“Does she think I ain’t going to get well?” she asked, as if her mother were not present.

“Of course she don’t,” replied Amanda, with decision.  She stooped and took hold of Mrs. Field’s shoulders.  “Now look here, Mis’ Field,” said she, “you ain’t actin’ like yourself.  You’re goin’ to make Lois sick, if she ain’t now, if you go on this way.  You get up an’ make her a cup of tea, an’ get her somethin’ to eat.  Ten chances to one, that’s all that ailed her.  I don’t believe she’s eat enough to-day to keep a cat alive.”

“I know all about it,” moaned Mrs. Field.  “It’s jest what I expected.  Oh, my child! my child!  I have prayed an’ done all I could, an’ now it’s come to this.  I’ve got to give up.  Oh, my child! my child!”

It was to this mother as though her daughter was not there, although she held her in her arms.  She was in that abandon of grief which is the purest selfishness.

Amanda fairly pulled her to her feet.  “Mis’ Field, I’m ashamed of you!” said she, severely.  “I should think you were beside yourself.  Here’s Lois better—­”

“No, she ain’t better.  I know.”

Mrs. Field straightened herself, and went out into the kitchen.

Lois looked again at Amanda, in a piteous, terrified fashion.  “Oh,” said she, “you don’t think I’m so very sick, do you?”

“Very sick?  No; of course you ain’t.  Your mother got dreadful nervous because you didn’t come home.  That’s what made her act so.  You look a good deal better than you did when you first came in.”

“I feel better,” said Lois.  “I never saw mother act so in my life.”

“She got all wrought up, waitin’.  If I was you, I’d lay down a few minutes, jest on her account.  I think it would make her feel easier.”

“Well, I will, if you think I’d better; but there ain’t a mite of need of it.”