“Sarah and I are going out to milk, Naomi, Eunice will stay with you.  She can run for us if you feel another spell coming on.”

Naomi Holland looked up at her sister-in-law with something like malicious enjoyment.

“I ain’t going to have any more spells, Car’line Anne.  I’m going to die to-night.  But you needn’t hurry milking for that, at all.  I’ll take my time.”

She liked to see the alarm that came over the other woman’s face.  It was richly worth while to scare Caroline Holland like that.

“Are you feeling worse, Naomi?” asked the latter shakily.  “If you are I’ll send for Charles to go for the doctor.”

“No, you won’t.  What good can the doctor do me?  I don’t want either his or Charles’ permission to die.  You can go and milk at your ease.  I won’t die till you’re done—­I won’t deprive you of the pleasure of seeing me.”

Mrs. Holland shut her lips and went out of the room with a martyr-like expression.  In some ways Naomi Holland was not an exacting patient, but she took her satisfaction out in the biting, malicious speeches she never failed to make.  Even on her death-bed her hostility to her sister-in-law had to find vent.

Outside, at the steps, Sarah Spencer was waiting, with the milk pails over her arm.  Sarah Spencer had no fixed abiding place, but was always to be found where there was illness.  Her experience, and an utter lack of nerves, made her a good nurse.  She was a tall, homely woman with iron gray hair and a lined face.  Beside her, the trim little Caroline Anne, with her light step and round, apple-red face, looked almost girlish.

The two women walked to the barnyard, discussing Naomi in undertones as they went.  The house they had left behind grew very still.

In Naomi Holland’s room the shadows were gathering.  Eunice timidly bent over her mother.

“Ma, do you want the light lit?”

“No, I’m watching that star just below the big cherry bough.  I’ll see it set behind the hill.  I’ve seen it there, off and on, for twelve years, and now I’m taking a good-by look at it.  I want you to keep still, too.  I’ve got a few things to think over, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

The girl lifted herself about noiselessly and locked her hands over the bed-post.  Then she laid her face down on them, biting at them silently until the marks of her teeth showed white against their red roughness.

Naomi Holland did not notice her.  She was looking steadfastly at the great, pearl-like sparkle in the faint-hued sky.  When it finally disappeared from her vision she struck her long, thin hands together twice, and a terrible expression came over her face for a moment.  But, when she spoke, her voice was quite calm.

“You can light the candle now, Eunice.  Put it up on the shelf here, where it won’t shine in my eyes.  And then sit down on the foot of the bed where I can see you.  I’ve got something to say to you.”