Jane Field | Page 4

you called it consumption that ailed your sister, didn't you, Mis'
Field?"
"I s'pose it was."
Mrs. Babcock stared with cool reflection at the other woman's long,
pale face, with its high cheek-bones and deep-set eyes and wide,
drooping mouth. She was deliberating whether or not to ask for some
information that she wanted. "Speakin' of your sister," said she finally,
with a casual air, "her husband's father is livin', ain't he?"
"He was the last I knew."
"I s'pose he's worth considerable property?"
"Yes, I s'pose he is."
"Well, I want to know. Somebody was speakin' about it the other day,
an' they said they thought he did, an' I told 'em I didn't believe it. He
never helped your sister's husband any, did he?"
Mrs. Field did not reply for a moment. Mrs. Babcock was leaning
forward and smiling ingratiatingly, with keen eyes upon her face.

"I dun'no' as he did. But I guess Edward never expected he would
much," said she.
"Well, I told 'em I didn't believe he did. I declare! it seemed pretty
tough, didn't it?"
"I dun'no'. I thought of it some along there when Edward was sick."
"I declare, I should have thought you'd wrote to him about it."
Mrs. Field said nothing.
"Didn't you ever?" Mrs. Babcock asked.
"Well, yes; I wrote once when he was first taken sick."
"An' he didn't take any notice of it?"
Mrs. Field shook her head.
"He's a regular old skinflint, ain't he?" said Mrs. Babcock.
"I guess he's a pretty set kind of a man."
"Set! I should call it more'n set. Now, Mis' Field, I'd really like to know
something. I ain't curious, but I've heard so many stories about it that
I'd really like to know the truth of it once. Somebody was speakin'
about it the other day, an' it don't seem right for stories to be goin' the
rounds when there ain't no truth in 'em. Mis' Field, what was it set
Edward Maxwell's father agin' him?" Mrs. Babcock's voice sank to a
whisper, she leaned farther forward, and gazed at Mrs. Field with crafty
sweetness.
Mrs. Field looked out of the window.
"Well, I s'pose it was some trouble about money matters."
"Money matters?"

"Yes, I s'pose so."
"Mis' Field, what did he do?"
Mrs. Field did not reply. She looked out of the window at the green
banks in front. Her face was inscrutable.
Mrs. Babcock drew herself up. "Course I don't want you to tell me
nothin' you don't want to," said she, with injured dignity. "I ain't pryin'
into things that folks don't want me to know about; it wa'n't never my
way. All is, I thought I'd like to know the truth of it, whether there was
anything in them stories or not."
"Oh, I'd jest as soon tell you," rejoined Mrs. Field quietly. "I was jest
a-thinkin'. As near as I can tell you, Mis' Babcock, Edward's father he
let him have some money, and Edward he speculated with it on
something contrary to his advice, an' lost it, an' that made the trouble."
"Was that all?" asked Mrs. Babcock, with a disappointed air.
"Yes, I s'pose it was."
"I want to know!" Mrs. Babcock leaned back with a sigh. "Well, there's
another thing," she said presently. "Somebody was sayin' the other day
that you thought Esther caught the consumption from her husband. I
wanted to know if you did."
Mrs. Field's face twitched. "Well," she replied, "I dun'no'. I've heard
consumption was catchin', an' she was right over him the whole time."
"Well, I don't know. I ain't never been able to take much stock in
catchin' consumption. There was Mis' Gay night an' day with Susan for
ten years, an' she's jest as well as anybody. I should be afraid 'twas a
good deal likelier to be in your family. Does Lois cough?"
"None to speak of."
"Well, there's more kinds of consumption than one."

Mrs. Babcock made quite a long call. She shook Mrs. Field's hand
warmly at parting. "I want to know, does Lois like honey?" said she.
"Yes, she's real fond of it."
"Well, I'm goin' to send her over a dish of it. Ours was uncommon nice
this year. It's real good for a cough."
On her way home Mrs. Babcock met Lois Field coming from school
attended by a little flock of children. Mrs. Babcock stopped, and looked
sharply at her small, delicately pretty face, with its pointed chin and
deep-set blue eyes.
"How are you feelin' to-night, Lois?" she inquired, in a tone of forcible
commiseration.
"I'm pretty well, thank you," said Lois.
"Seems to me you're lookin' pretty slim. You'd ought to take a little
vacation." Mrs. Babcock surveyed her with a kind of pugnacious pity.
Lois stood quite