ad time to
speak.

"Lawful heart!" puffed Mrs. Stapp, as she stepped in out of the biting
wind. "I'm right out of breath. Mrs. March, allow me to introduce Mrs.
Kent. We're looking for Mrs. Baxter. She has run away, and we thought
perhaps she came here. Did she?"

"She is in my sitting-room now," said Mrs. March quietly.

"Didn't I say so?" demanded Mrs. Kent, turning to Mrs. Stapp. She
spoke in a sharp, high-pitched tone that grated on Mrs. March's
nerves. "Doesn't she beat all! She slipped away this morning when I
was busy in the kitchen. And to think of her walking six miles over
here in this wind! I dunno how she did it. I don't believe she's half
as sick as she pretends. Well, I've got my wagon out here, Mrs. March,
and I'll be much obliged if you'll tell her I'm here to take her home.
I s'pose we'll have a fearful scene."

"I don't see that there is any call for a scene," said Mrs. March
firmly. "The poor woman has just got here, and she thinks she has got
home. She might as well think so if it is of any comfort to her. You'd
better leave her here."

Theodosia gave a stifled gasp of amazement, but Mrs. March went
serenely on.

"I'll take care of the poor soul as long as she needs it--and that
will not be very long in my opinion, for if ever I saw death in a
woman's face, it is looking out of hers. I've plenty of time to look
after her and make her comfortable."

Mrs. Joel Kent was voluble in her thanks. It was evident that she was
delighted to get the sick woman off her hands. Mrs. March cut her
short with an invitation to stay to tea, but Mrs. Kent declined.

"I've got to hurry home straight off and get the men's suppers. Such a
scamper to have over that woman! I'm sure I'm thankful you're willing
to let her stay, for she'd never be contented anywhere else. I'll send
over what few things she has tomorrow."

When Mrs. Kent had gone, Mrs. March and Mrs. Stapp looked at each
other.

"And so this is your revenge, Anna March?" said the latter solemnly.
"Do you remember what you said to me about her?"

"Yes, I do, Theodosia, and I thought I meant every word of it. But I
guess my wicked streak ran out just when I needed it to depend on.
Besides, you see, I've thought of Lou Carroll all these years as she
was when I knew her--handsome and saucy and proud. But that poor
creature in there isn't any more like the Lou Carroll I knew than you
are--not a mite. The old Lou Carroll is dead already, and my spite is