Mrs. Field sank down on her knees before the sofa. "Oh, my child!" she wailed. "My child! my child!" She threw her arms around the girl's slender waist, and clung to her convulsively. Lois cast a terrified glance up at Amanda. "Does she think I ain't going to get well?" she asked, as if her mother were not present. "Of course she don't," replied Amanda, with decision. She stooped and took hold of Mrs. Field's shoulders. "Now look here, Mis' Field," said she, "you ain't actin' like yourself. You're goin' to make Lois sick, if she ain't now, if you go on this way. You get up an' make her a cup of tea, an' get her somethin' to eat. Ten chances to one, that's all that ailed her. I don't believe she's eat enough to-day to keep a cat alive." "I know all about it," moaned Mrs. Field. "It's jest what I expected. Oh, my child! my child! I have prayed an' done all I could, an' now it's come to this. I've got to give up. Oh, my child! my child!" It was to this mother as though her daughter was not there, although she held her in her arms. She was in that abandon of grief which is the purest selfishness. Amanda fairly pulled her to her feet. "Mis' Field, I'm ashamed of you!" said she, severely. "I should think you were beside yourself. Here's Lois better--" "No, she ain't better. I know." Mrs. Field straightened herself, and went out into the kitchen. Lois looked again at Amanda, in a piteous, terrified fashion. "Oh," said she, "you don't think I'm so very sick, do you?" "Very sick? No; of course you ain't. Your mother got dreadful nervous because you didn't come home. That's what made her act so. You look a good deal better than you did when you first came in." "I feel better," said Lois. "I never saw mother act so in my life." "She got all wrought up, waitin'. If I was you, I'd lay down a few minutes, jest on her account. I think it would make her feel easier." "Well, I will, if you think I'd better; but there ain't a mite of need of it." Lois laid her head down on the sofa arm. "That's right," said Amanda. "You can jest lay there a little while. I'm goin' out to tell your mother to make you a cup of tea. That'll set you right up." Amanda found Mrs. Field already making the tea. She measured it out carefully, and never looked around. Amanda stepped close to her. "Mis' Field," she whispered, "I hope you wa'n't hurt by what I said. I meant it for the best." "I sha'n't give way so again," said Mrs. Field. Her face had a curious determined expression. "I hope you don't feel hurt?" "No, I don't. I sha'n't give way so again." She poured the boiling water into the teapot, and set it on the stove. Amanda looked at a covered dish on the stove hearth. "What was you goin' to have for dinner?" said she. "Lamb broth. I'm goin' to heat up some for her. She didn't eat hardly a mouthful of breakfast."