“Well, I couldn’t get out to-day, that’s all there is to that,” Mrs. Torney defended herself sharply.  “My back’s been like it was on fire.  I’ve jest been resting all day.  And when you go upstairs you won’t find a thing straightened, so don’t get mad about that—­ I haven’t been able to do one thing!  Regina’s been real sick, too; she may have made the beds—­she was upstairs a while—­”

“She didn’t!” supplied Regina herself, speaking over her shoulder as she lighted the gas.  They all blinked in the harsh sudden light.

“Oh, Lord!” Geraldine was beginning, when Julia interrupted soothingly: 

“See here, I have the car here; Chadwick was to come back at five.  Let me send him for the things!  What do we want?”

“Well, we don’t want to keep you, lovey,” her mother began.  But Julia was already writing a list.

“Indeed I’m going to stay and have some with you, Mrs. Page,” she said cheerfully.  “Chops for the family—­aren’t those quickest?  And a quart of oysters for Mama, and cake and cheese and jam and eggs--tell me anything you think of, Aunt May, because he might as well do it thoroughly!

“Mama and Regina are going to have oyster soup and toast because they are the invalids!” she announced cheerfully, coming back from the door a little later, “You like oysters, don’t you, Mama?”

“Oh, Julia, I like ’em so much!” Mrs. Page said, with grateful fervour.

“You can have other things, too, you know, Madam,” Julia assured her playfully.  “And why don’t you let me push you, so—­” She wheeled the chair across the kitchen as she spoke.  “Over here, you see, you’re out of the crowd,” she said.  She presently put a coaxing arm about Regina.  “Do go up and brush your hair and change, dear, you’ll feel so much better,” she urged.

“I feel rotten,” Regina said, dragging herself stairward nevertheless.

Poor Mrs. Page cried when the moment for parting came.  It was still early in the evening when Julia bundled up the sleeping Anna, and sent her to the motor car by Chester, a gentle gray-haired man, who had been extremely appreciative of a good dinner, and who had been sitting with his wet socks in the oven, and his stupid kindly eyes contentedly fixed upon Julia and her mother.

“I may not see you again, Julie,” Mrs. Page said with trembling lips.  “Mama ain’t strong like she once was, dear.  And I declare I don’t know what I shall do, when day after day goes by and you don’t come in—­always so sweet!” The tears began to flow, and she twisted her head, and slowly and painfully raised her handkerchief in a crippled hand to dry her eyes.  Julia knelt down to kiss her, her young face very sober.

“Listen, Mama—­don’t cry!  Please don’t cry!” said she.  “Listen!  I’ll promise you to see you again before I go!”

Her mother brightened visibly at this, and Julia kissed her again, and ran out in the dripping rain to her car.  She took the baby into her arms, and settled back in the darkness for the long trip to her hotel.  And for the first time in many months her thoughts were not of her own troubles.