"I can't, Alma, I can't!" moaned the woman. "I've tried an' tried; but
I've got ter give up, I've got ter give up."
"Can't what, dearie?--give up what?" demanded Alma.
Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands and looked
fearfully into her daughter's face.
"An' yer father, too, Alma--he's tried, an' he can't," she choked.
"Tried what? What
do you mean?"
With her eyes on Alma's troubled, amazed face, Mrs. Kelsey made one last
effort to gain her lost position. She raised her shaking hands to her
throat and fumbled for the pin and the collar.
"There, there, dear, don't fret," she stammered. "I didn't think what I
was sayin'. It ain't nothin'--I mean, it
aren't nothin'--it
am not--oh-h!" she sobbed; "there, ye see, Alma, I can't, I
can't. It ain't no more use ter try!" Down went the gray head on Alma's
strong young shoulder.
"There, there, dear, cry away," comforted Alma, with loving pats. "It
will do you good; then we'll hear what this is all about, from the very
beginning."
And Mrs. Kelsey told her--and from the very beginning. When the telling
was over, and the little woman, a bit breathless and frightened, sat
awaiting what Alma would say, there came a long silence.
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