re in the study.

Mrs. Brigham was hemming some black material. At last she laid her work
on her lap.

"It's no use, I cannot see to sew another stitch until we have a light,"
said she.

Caroline, who was writing some letters at the table, turned to Rebecca,
in her usual place on the sofa.

"Rebecca, you had better get a lamp," she said.

Rebecca started up; even in the dusk her face showed her agitation.

"It doesn't seem to me that we need a lamp quite yet," she said in a
piteous, pleading voice like a child's.

"Yes, we do," returned Mrs. Brigham peremptorily. "I can't see to sew
another stitch."

Rebecca rose and left the room. Presently she entered with a lamp. She
set it on the table, an old-fashioned card-table which was placed
against the opposite wall from the window. That opposite wall was taken
up with three doors; the one small space was occupied by the table.

"What have you put that lamp over there for?" asked Mrs. Brigham, with
more of impatience than her voice usually revealed. "Why didn't you set
it in the hall, and have done with it? Neither Caroline nor I can see if
it is on that table."

"I thought perhaps you would move," replied Rebecca hoarsely.

"If I do move, we can't both sit at that table. Caroline has her paper
all spread around. Why don't you set the lamp on the study table in the
middle of the room, then we can both see?"

Rebecca hesitated. Her face was very pale. She looked with an appeal
that was fairly agonizing at her sister Caroline.

"Why don't you put the lamp on this table, as she says?" asked Caroline,
almost fiercely. "Why do you act so, Rebecca?"

Rebecca took the lamp and set it on the table in the middle of the room
without another word. Then she seated herself on the sofa and placed a
hand over her eyes as if to shade them, and remained so.

"Does the light hurt your eyes, and is that the reason why you didn't
want the lamp?" asked Mrs. Brigham kindly.

"I always like to sit in the dark," replied Rebecca chokingly. Then she
snatched her handkerchief hastily from her pocket and began to weep.
Caroline continued to write, Mrs. Brigham to sew.

Suddenly Mrs. Brigham as she sewed glanced at the opposite wall. The
glance became a steady stare. She looked intently, her work suspended in
her hands. Then she looked away again and took a few more stitches, then
she looked again, and again turned to her task. At last she laid her
work in her lap and stared concentr