Again she thought of her sister dead. "Oh Amy--Amy! Where have you
gone?" And at last, quite suddenly, the tears came, and she huddled and
shook on her bed.



CHAPTER V

She slept that night exhausted, woke up early the next morning and lay
motionless on her bed: at first staring bewildered about the room, and
then, with a sharp contraction of her brows and a quick breath, looking
intently up at the ceiling. A vigilant look crept into her eyes, for at
once instinctively she was on guard against letting the feelings of
yesterday rise.

"What a selfish little beast I've been. Did I help in the funeral? Not
a bit. Did I comfort poor Joe? Not at all. I was occupied wholly with
my own morbid little soul. Now we're going to stiffen up, my love, and
try to be of some use to Joe, and do as Amy would have liked." She began
to tremble suddenly. "No, we're not going to think of her! It's
dangerous! Be practical! To begin with, I must clear things up. I'll
have a little talk with Joe. Poor Joe--it's going to be pretty
dreadful. I'll stick by him, though, and I've got to learn how to keep
him from going out of his mind." More staring at the ceiling. "One
thing I know. I shan't wear black. Amy detested mourning, and Joe will
see life black enough as it is. . . . Thank Heaven there's the
housekeeping to do. That shall run smoothly if it kills me! . . .
All right, now suppose we get out of bed."