"FRANK'S DEAD" "Frank come yet ?" The peevish impatience of an invalid whose horizon has narrowed to his own personal welfare and wants was in Brit's voice.

Two weeks he had been sick, and his temper had not sweetened with the pain of his broken bones and the enforced idleness.

Brit was the type of man who is never quiet unless he is asleep or too ill to get out of bed.
Lorraine came to the doorway and looked in at him.

Two weeks had set their mark on her also.

She seemed older, quieter in her ways; there were shadows in her eyes and a new seriousness in the set of her mouth.
She had had her burdens, and she had borne them with more patience than many an older woman would have done, but what she thought of those burdens she did not say.
"No, dad--but I thought I heard a wagon a little while ago.