kitchen where Mary's sister was helping
Mary with the extra work due to Persis' engrossing activities.

"Keep an eye on Celia and the baby, girls. If they say they're hungry
try 'em with bread and butter without any sugar. I'll probably be back
before the rest get home from school, but if I'm not here, tell 'em not
to go away. We'll have a good ride before supper."

The West dwelling had that look of peaceful complacency characteristic
of well-ordered establishments in mid-afternoon. Persis entered by the
unlocked kitchen door, carrying Mrs. West's skirt over her arm. "Mis'
West," she called challengingly, "Mis' West." And then as the silence
remained unbroken, she found her irritation evaporating in anxiety.
Could anything be wrong? "Mis' West," she called again at the foot of
the stairs, and an observer could have argued from her altered voice a
corresponding psychological change.

A sound answered her, something between a grunt and a groan, and
sufficient to send her scurrying up the stairs with a marked
acceleration of the pulse. Her vague foreboding took shape when as she
reached the upper hall, she caught sight of a prostrate figure,
partially visible through a half-open door. "A stroke!" thought
Persis, and the black silk slipping from her arm, dropped in an
unheeded heap.

The recumbent figure did not move as Persis flew down the hall, but as
she entered the room, the head stirred slightly as if to look in her
direction. Persis dropped upon her knees.

"Can you understand me, Etta?" she spoke with terrifying gentleness.

"Don't be a fool, Persis Dale." The vehemence of the rejoinder was
startling. "Why shouldn't I understand?"

"Then it's just a fall, is it?"

Mrs. West hesitated before replying. "No," she returned in a tone of
marked irritability, "I didn't fall."

"Then what's the matter?"

"I didn't say there was anything the matter, did I?" Mrs. West's ill
humor seemed to be gaining on her. "I s'pose if a body wants to lie
down for a while--in her own room--after her day's work is done--her
neighbors haven't any real call to make a fuss."

The amazed Persis continued in a kneeling position, her bewilderment
rendering her incapable of movement.

"You mean that you're lying here--because you like it?"

"On a warm day," said Mrs. West with dignity, "a floor's cooler than a
bed and it saves mussing the spread."

Persis studied her thoughtfully. "I can't say you look cool, Mis'
W