Yes, your own child is lost, and you sit there and rock!" Ida for a moment made no reply.

The other women, and Gladys and Wollaston in the vestibule, listened with horror.
"You have had beefsteak and fried potatoes cooked, too," continued Maria, sniffing, "and you have eaten them.

You have been eating beefsteak and fried potatoes when your own child was lost and you did not know where she was!" It might have been ridiculous, this last accusation in the thin, sweet, childish voice, but it was not.

It was even more terrible than anything else.
Ida turned at last.

"I hate you," she said slowly.