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“How is your ma?”

“Well, she ain’t very well; she never is, you know.”

“What ails her?”

“I do’ know,” said Demaris, slowly. “We’ll get home by midnight. So ’f she has a spell come on, pa can set up with her till I get home, and then I can till mornin’.”

“Should think you’d be all wore out a-settin’ up two or three nights a week that way.”

Demaris sighed. The radiance had gone out of her face and a look of care was upon it.

“Well,” she said, after a moment, “I’ll have a good time to-night, anyhow. We’re goin’ to have the band along. They’re gettin’ so’s they play reel well. They play ‘Annie Laurie’ an’ ‘Rocked ’n the Cradle o’ the Deep,’ now.”

The gate clicked. A child came running up the path.

“Oh, sister, sister! Come home quick!”

“What for?” said Demaris. There was a look of dread on her face.

“Ma’s goin’ right into a spell. She wants you quick. She thinks she’s took worse ’n usual.”

There was a second’s hesitation. The girl’s face whitened. Her lips trembled.

“I guess I won’t want the roses after gettin’ ’em,” she said. “I’m just as much obliged, though, Mis’ Eaton.”