ated several years ago. All Thomas
Maxwell's property was bequeathed without reserve to his son's widow,
Esther Maxwell, should she survive him. In case of her decease before
his own, the whole was to revert to his brother's daughter, Flora
Maxwell.

Jane Field read the letter through twice, then she folded it,
replaced it in the envelope, and stood erect by the store door. She
could see Mrs. Green's broad shawled back among the customers at the
calico counter. Once in a while she looked around with a beseeching
and apologetic smile.

Mrs. Field thought, "I won't say a word to her about it." However,
she was conscious of no evil motive; it was simply because she was
naturally secretive. She looked pale and rigid.

Mrs. Green remarked it when she finally approached with her parcel of
calico.

"Why, what's the matter, Mis' Field?" she exclaimed. "You ain't sick,
be you?"

"No. Why?"

"Seems to me you look dreadful pale. It was too bad to keep you
standin' there so long, but I couldn't get waited on before. I think
Mr. Robbins had ought to have more help. It's too much for him with
only two clerks, an' the post-office to tend, too. I see you got a
letter." Mrs. Field nodded. The two women went down the steps into
the street.

"How's Lois to-night?" Mrs. Green asked as they went along.

"I guess she's about as usual. She didn't say but what she was."

"She ain't left off her school, has she?"

"No," replied Mrs. Field, stiffly, "she ain't."

Suddenly Mrs. Green stopped and laid a heavy hand on Mrs. Field's
arm. "Look here, Mis' Field, I dun'no' as you'll thank me for it, but
I'm goin' to speak real plain to you, the way I'd thank anybody to if
'twas my Jenny. I'm dreadful afraid you don't realize how bad Lois
is, Mis' Field."

"Mebbe I don't." Mrs. Field's voice sounded hard.

The other woman looked perplexedly at her for a moment, then she went
on:

"Well, if you do, mebbe I hadn't ought to said anything; but I was
dreadful afraid you didn't, an' then when you come to, perhaps when
'twas too late, you'd never forgive yourself. She hadn't ought to
teach school another day, Mis' Field."

"I dun'no how it's goin' to be helped," Mrs. Field said again, in her
hard voice.

"Mis' Field, I know it ain't any of my business, an' I don't know but
you'll think I'm interferin'; but I can't help it nohow when I think
of--my Abby, an' how--she went down. _Ain't_ you got anybody that
could help you a little whil