She could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared, prepared to do the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in Trumet.

Noon came, dinner time, but still he did not come down.

At last Keziah could stand it no longer.

She determined to go to him.

She climbed the steep stairs and rapped on the door of his room.
"Yes ?" she heard him say.
"It's me," was the reply.