“Mother, I promise it!”

Naomi relaxed her grip on the girl’s arm and sank back exhausted on the pillow.  A death-like look came over her face as the excitement faded.

“My mind is easier now.  But if I could only have lived another year or two!  And I hate Car’line—­hate her!  Eunice, don’t you ever let her abuse my boy!  If she did, or if you neglected him, I’d come back from my grave to you!  As for the property, things will be pretty straight.  I’ve seen to that.  There’ll be no squabbling and doing Christopher out of his rights.  He’s to have the farm as soon as he’s old enough to work it, and he’s to provide for you.  And, Eunice, remember what you’ve promised!”

Outside, in the thickly gathering dusk, Caroline Holland and Sarah Spencer were at the dairy, straining the milk into creamers, for which Christopher was sullenly pumping water.  The house was far from the road, up to which a long red lane led; across the field was the old Holland homestead where Caroline lived; her unmarried sister-in-law, Electa Holland, kept house for her while she waited on Naomi.

It was her night to go home and sleep, but Naomi’s words haunted her, although she believed they were born of pure “cantankerousness.”

“You’d better go in and look at her, Sarah,” she said, as she rinsed out the pails.  “If you think I’d better stay here to-night, I will.  If the woman was like anybody else a body would know what to do; but, if she thought she could scare us by saying she was going to die, she’d say it.”

When Sarah went in, the sick room was very quiet.  In her opinion, Naomi was no worse than usual, and she told Caroline so; but the latter felt vaguely uneasy and concluded to stay.

Naomi was as cool and defiant as customary.  She made them bring Christopher in to say good-night and had him lifted up on the bed to kiss her.  Then she held him back and looked at him admiringly—­at the bright curls and rosy cheeks and round, firm limbs.  The boy was uncomfortable under her gaze and squirmed hastily down.  Her eyes followed him greedily, as he went out.  When the door closed behind him, she groaned.  Sarah Spencer was startled.  She had never heard Naomi Holland groan since she had come to wait on her.

“Are you feeling any worse, Naomi?  Is the pain coming back?”

“No.  Go and tell Car’line to give Christopher some of that grape jelly on his bread before he goes to bed.  She’ll find it in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Presently the house grew very still.  Caroline had dropped asleep on the sitting-room lounge, across the hall.  Sarah Spencer nodded over her knitting by the table in the sick room.  She had told Eunice to go to bed, but the child refused.  She still sat huddled up on the foot of the bed, watching her mother’s face intently.  Naomi appeared to sleep.  The candle burned long, and the wick was crowned by a little cap of fiery red that seemed to watch Eunice like some impish goblin.  The wavering light cast grotesque shadows of Sarah Spencer’s head on the wall.  The thin curtains at the window wavered to and fro, as if shaken by ghostly hands.