“I’m sorry,” said Lois, wondering at her power of suspending a heartbreak, “but we haven’t a drop left in the house.” “There is so much bronchitis around now,” continued Mrs. Snow, oblivious of the fact that the same impetus that had brought her as far as the Alexanders’ would have taken her to the druggist’s. “No, thank you; I can’t sit down.” She stood by the mantel in a drooping attitude that gave her a plaintive effect, in combination with her soft crinkled black garments and her small white, delicate, finely wrinkled face. Mrs. Snow had, as a usual thing, only two tones to her voice—the plaintive and the inquisitive; the former was in evidence now. “There is so much bronchitis around now. I think if you can take hold of it at the first beginning, with a little cough medicine, when it’s just a tickle in the throat, you can often save a great deal.” “I suppose you can,” said Lois. She felt a vague duty of conversation. “Isn’t William well?” His mother shook her head. “No, my dear, not at all, though he will not own it. I ask him every time he comes in the house how he feels, and sometimes he won’t even answer me.” She heaved a sigh. “You’re not looking well yourself, Mrs. Alexander; you mustn’t take care of the children too hard.” “Oh, nothing ever hurts _me_,” said Lois in a hard voice. “I’m glad they’re so nearly well. I met Mr. Alexander to-night on his way back to town. It was a pity you couldn’t have gone with him; if you had sent for me, I could have come and stayed with the children as well as not.” “Oh, thank you,” said Lois. “I suppose you don’t see much of Miss Dosia?” “No, not much as yet.” Mrs. Snow cleared her throat deprecatingly. “A number of people have been asking me lately if she and Mr. Barr were engaged.” “Engaged! Why, of course not,” exclaimed Lois contemptuously. “There is not the slightest question of such a thing; in fact, she dislikes him. He simply takes her around because she is at his sister’s.” “Oh!” said Mrs. Snow, “Miss Dosia dislikes Mr. Barr—does she really, now! I’m sure I told everybody that I knew they couldn’t be engaged, although they do seem to be so much together. So she dislikes him; Ada dislikes him, too. There’s something about Mr. Barr so—well, you can’t exactly tell what it is, can you, but it’s there; something that’s not exactly like a gentleman—not like Mr. Sutton. Ada likes Mr. Sutton so much. It’s such a relief to me to find that Miss Dosia is so sensible; she’s a sweet young girl—a little fond of attention, perhaps, but many young girls _are_. No, I thank you, my dear, I cannot sit down, I _must_ go now. I don’t think you’re looking well; you must be careful and not overdo.” “Oh, nothing hurts me,” said Lois again, with a peculiar little smile. The insinuation about Dosia did no more than swell the undercurrent of bitterness by another unnecessary drop.