"It is more likely that she is intoxicated," answered Angela. The woman was young, but her appearance was singularly forlorn, for she was ragged, barefoot, and wore a man's straw hat on her dishevelled black hair. She sat with her back against the tree, her chin sunk on her breast, and her eyes closed. In her arms was a baby wrapped in a faded red shawl, and near by was a cart, in which was heaped a miscellaneous collection of household goods. She did not look up as the phaeton stopped, nor appear to hear the voices of the girls. "I think we ought to find out what is the matter with her," said Ida. "Oh, it isn't necessary; she is only a common tramp," rejoined Angela. "She looks as if she were in some sort of a stupor," said Ida. "Then we had better drive on; she may have some dreadful disease. Ida, surely you are not going to get out. How foolish!" "Well, it may be foolish; but I cannot drive on without finding out first what is the matter with the poor thing," said Ida, as she stepped out of the phaeton. Strangely enough, the thought of Aunt Patty had come into her mind. Would Aunt Patty have driven by without making an effort to help? Of course not. The woman raised her head as Ida drew near, and her heavy eyes opened slowly. She stared dully at Ida without speaking. [Illustration: "ARE YOU ILL?" ASKED IDA.] "Are you ill?" asked Ida. "I'm dyin', I guess," answered the poor creature in a thick voice. "I don't know what's the matter of me. I ache all over, 'n' my head's 'most burstin' open." "Oh, Ida, do--_do_ come away," cried Angela from the phaeton. But Ida paid no attention to her. She bent over the woman, and, drawing off her gloves, put her soft cool hand on the flushed forehead. "You have a high fever," she said, "and you ought not to stay here; it will soon be dark. Have you no home nor friends?" "I'm tryin' to get to my sister in Edgerton," was the reply. "I've walked all the way from Stormville, a-draggin' that cart 'n' a-carryin' of my baby. I can't go no further. I'm clear worn out." Ida went out into the road again. "Angela! we can't go off and leave this poor woman here to die," she said. "I don't see what we can possibly do for her," rejoined Angela. "We might put her in the phaeton and drive her to Edgerton." "Put her into my nice phaeton! That horrid, dirty woman!" Angela stared at her friend in astonishment at such an extraordinary proposition. "Indeed, she shall not come anywhere near me! I am sure she has some dreadful contagious disease." "Angela, we can't go off and leave her here. It would be utterly heartless." Angela set her mouth stubbornly. "Other people will probably come along and do something for her," she said. "There may be a dozen wagons along here before night." "We can't be _sure_ that even one will pass; this road is not much travelled," said Ida.