VII.
Jumping out of the buggy, Dorinda took her mother into her arms; but while she pressed her lips to the wrinkled cheek, it occurred to her that it was like kissing a withered leaf.
"How is Pa?" she asked in an effort to conceal the embarrassment they both felt.
"About the same. I don't see any change."
"May I speak to him now?"
"You'd better have your breakfast first. I've got breakfast ready for you."
"In a minute, but I'd like just to say a word to him. Oh, there's dear old Rambler." She stooped to caress the hound. "I don't see Flossie."
"I reckon she's up at the barn hunting mice. She had a new set of kittens, but we had to drown all but one. We couldn't feed so many cats."
Embarrassment was passing away. How much had her mother known, she wondered; how much had she suspect
