“I never thought o’ such a thing,” repeated her visitor, still looking rather helplessly dazed. “I talked about it because it was on my mind, heavy, too; an’, I guess, because I wanted to talk my conscience down.” Mrs. Bridges cooled off a little and folded her hands over the bedpost. “Well, if you wasn’t hintin’,” she said, in a conciliatory tone, “it’s all right. You kep’ harpin’ on the same string till I thought you was; an’ it riles me offul to be hinted at. I’ll take anything right out to my face, so’s I can answer it, but I won’t be hinted at. But why”—having rid herself of the grievance she at once swung around to the insult—“why _didn’t_ you think o’ me?” Mrs. Hanna cleared her throat and began to unroll her mitts. “Well, I don’t know just why,” she replied, helplessly. She drew the mitts on, smoothing them well up over her thin wrists. “I don’t know why, I’m sure. I’d thought o’ most ev’rybody in the neighborhood—but you never come into my head _onct_. I was as innocent o’ hintin’ as a babe unborn.” Mrs. Bridges drew a long breath noiselessly. “Well,” she said, absent-mindedly, “come again, Mis’ Hanna. An’ be sure you always fetch your work an’ stay the afternoon.” “Well, I will. But it’s your turn to come now. Where’s Isaphene?” “I guess she’s makin’ a fire ’n the cook-stove to get supper by.” “Well, tell her to come over an’ stay all night with Julia some night.” “Well—I will.” Mrs. Bridges went into the kitchen and sat down, rather heavily, in a chair. Her face wore a puzzled expression. “Isaphene, did you hear what we was a-sayin’ in the bedroom?” “Yes, most of it, I guess.” “Well, what do you s’pose was the reason she never thought o’ me a-takin’ Mis’ Lane in? Says she’d thought o’ ev’rybody else.” “Why, you never thought o’ takin’ her in yourself, did you?” said Isaphene, turning down the damper of the stove with a clatter. “I don’t see how anybody else ’u’d think of it when you didn’t yourself.” “Well, don’t you think it was offul impadent in her to say that, anyhow?” “No, I don’t. She told the truth.” “Why ought they to think o’ ev’rybody takin’ her exceptin’ me, I’d like to know.” “Because ev’rybody else, I s’pose, has thought of it theirselves. The neighbors have all been chippin’ in to help her for years. You never done nothin’ for her, did you? You never invited her to visit here, did you?” “No, I never. But that ain’t no sayin’ I wouldn’t take her as quick ’s the rest of ’em. They ain’t none of ’em takin’ her in very fast, be they?” “No, they ain’t,” said Isaphene, facing her mother with a steady look. “They ain’t a one of ’em but ’s got their hands full—no spare room, an’ lots o’ childern or their folks to take care of.” “Hunh!” said Mrs. Bridges. She began chopping cold boiled beef for hash. “I don’t believe I’ll sleep to-night for thinkin’ about it,” she said, after a while. “I won’t neither, maw. I wish she wasn’t goin’ right by here.” “So do I.”