her complaints because she had not been
notified of her daughter's serious illness and the arrival of the child.
Elizabeth's protest that they had been absorbed by that illness, and too
busy to think of anything but the most urgent and immediate duties, did
not quiet the objections, for Mrs. Farnshaw had the habit of weak
insistence. Her mother's whine was never so hard to bear.

"Where's Mr. Farnshaw?" Mr. Crane asked. "He's grandpa now."

Elizabeth shrank into her pillows, and Mrs. Farnshaw bridled angrily.

"He's busy," was her tart reply.

"I should think he'd want t' see his grandson. Lizzie, you haven't showed
me that boy," Mr. Crane insisted.

And Elizabeth, weak and worn, had to draw the sleeping child from under
the quilts at her side and show him off as if he had been a roll of butter
at a country fair, while constant reference was made to one phase or
another of the unpleasant things in her experience. Her colour deepened
and her head thumped more and more violently, and by noon when they
trooped out to the dining room, where Hepsie had a good dinner waiting,
the girl-wife was worn out. She could not eat the food brought to her, but
drank constantly, and was unable to get a snatch of sleep before the
visitors assembled about her bed again.

At four o'clock Doctor Morgan arrived and Luther Hansen came for Sadie.
Sadie saw him drive in, and laughed unpleasantly.

"Luther wasn't a bit for comin', but I told him I'd come over with ma, an'
he could come after me. He's always chicken-hearted, an' said since Lizzie
was so sick we oughtn't t' come. I don't see as you're s' sick, Lizzie;
you've got lots of good colour in your face, an' th' way you pull that
baby around don't look much like you was goin' t' kick the bucket just
yet."

Elizabeth made no reply, but watched John help Doctor Morgan tie his
team.

"How's Mrs. Hunter?" Doctor Morgan asked John as he came around to the
gate after the horses were fastened.

"All right, I guess. She's had a good deal of company to-day. I didn't
want them, but you can't offend people."

"We usually have a good deal of company at a funeral," the old doctor said
dryly, as he viewed the extra horses and wagons about the fence.

When he entered the sickroom his face hardened.

"I'm not as much afraid of your neighbours as you are, Mr. Hunter," he
said, and went to the middle door and beckoned Luther to come with him
into the yard. A few words was all that was needed