d stretched her arms and eased her aching back. "Annie,
I'm sick of it all. Sick to death. It's grind, grind, grind. No
lightness, nothing but dark, uncheered work." She turned her eyes to
the window with a look of sorrowful regret. "Look at the sunlight
outside. It's mocking, laughing. Bidding us come out and gather fresh
courage to go on, because it knows we can't. I mean, what is the use
of it if we do go out? It is like salt water to the thirsty man. He
feels the moisture he so needs, and then realizes the maddening
parching which is a hundred times worse than his original state.
Life's one long drear, and--and I sometimes wish it were all over and
done with."

Annie's pretty eyes opened wide with astonishment. Here was the
self-reliant Eve talking like the veriest weakling. But quick as
thought she seized her opportunity.

"But, Eve, surely you of any folk has no right to get saying things.
You, with your husband heapin' up the dollars. Why, my dear, you don't
need to do all this. I mean this dressmakin'. You can set right out to
do just those things you'd like to do, an' leave the rest for folks
that has to do it."

She rose from her chair and came to her friend's side, and gently
placed an arm about her shoulders.

"My dear," she went on kindly, "I came here now to talk straight to
you. I didn't know how I was to begin for sure, but you've saved me
the trouble. I've watched you grow thinner an' thinner. I've sure seen
your poor cheeks fadin', an' your eyes gettin' darker and darker all
round 'em. I've seen, too, and worst of all, you don't smile any now.
You don't never jolly folks. You just look, look as though your grave
was in sight, and--and you'd already give my man the contract. I----"

The girl's gentle, earnest, half-humorous manner brought a shadowy
smile to Eve's eyes as she raised them to the healthy face beside
her. And Annie felt shrewdly that she'd somehow struck the right
note.

"Don't worry about me, Annie," she said. "I'm good for a few years
yet." Then her eyes returned to the gloomy seriousness which seemed to
be natural to them now. "I don't know, I s'pose I've got the
miserables, or--or something. P'raps a dash of that sunlight would do
me good. And--yet--I don't think so."

Suddenly she freed herself almost roughly from Annie's embracing arm
and stood up. She faced the girl almost wildly, and leaned against the
work-table. Her eyes grew hot with unshed tears. Her face suddenly
took