"A mesahchie box!" she whispered hoarsely. "A mesahchie box! It's the threat of death"; and she started to cry.
"I must do it. I must do it," she sobbed, as with the pail half-filled with water she stumbled back to the house.
"You don't look well to-day, Nellie," observed Mary when she came into the kitchen. "You look as if you'd been crying."
"I have. I had the toothache."
"You poor thing. I'll get you something for it"; and Mary went to the dispensary for toothache drops.
"Take care of yourself. You've been working too hard, and you're run down," advised the nurse. "Let me get Mother's breakfast. You rest yourself for a while."
Later in the day Mary went to her room to change her house slippers for the strong Oxfords she wore about the village.
She reached behind the curt
