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Page 19
"It's no use, I cannot see to sew another stitch until we have a
light," said she.
Caroline, who was writing some letters at the table, turned to
Rebecca, in her usual place on the sofa.
"Rebecca, you had better get a lamp," she said.
Rebecca started up; even in the dusk her face showed her agitation.
"It doesn't seem to me that we need a lamp quite yet," she said in
a piteous, pleading voice like a child's.
"Yes, we do," returned Mrs. Brigham peremptorily. "We must have a
light. I must finish this to-night or I can't go to the funeral,
and I can't see to sew another stitch."
"Caroline can see to write letters, and she is farther from the
window than you are," said Rebecca.
"Are you trying to save kerosene or are you lazy, Rebecca Glynn?"
cried Mrs. Brigham. "I can go and get the light myself, but I have
this work all in my lap."
Caroline's pen stopped scratching.
"Rebecca, we must have the light," said she.
"Had we better have it in here?" asked Rebecca weakly.
"Of course! Why not?" cried Caroline sternly.
"I am sure I don't want to take my sewing into the other room, when
it is all cleaned up for to-morrow," said Mrs. Brigham.
"Why, I never heard such a to-do about lighting a lamp."
Rebecca rose and left the room. Presently she entered with a lamp--
a large one with a white porcelain shade. She set it on a table,
an old-fashioned card-table which was placed against the opposite
wall from the window. That wall was clear of bookcases and books,
which were only on three sides of the room. That opposite wall was
taken up with three doors, the one small space being occupied by
the table. Above the table on the old-fashioned paper, of a white
satin gloss, traversed by an indeterminate green scroll, hung quite
high a small gilt and black-framed ivory miniature taken in her
girlhood of the mother of the family. When the lamp was set on the
table beneath it, the tiny pretty face painted on the ivory seemed
to gleam out with a look of intelligence.
"What have you put that lamp over there for?" asked Mrs. Brigham,
with more of impatience than her voice usually revealed. "Why
didn't you set it in the hall and have done with it. Neither
Caroline nor I can see if it is on that table."
"I thought perhaps you would move," replied Rebecca hoarsely.
"If I do move, we can't both sit at that table. Caroline has her
paper all spread around. Why don't you set the lamp on the study
table in the middle of the room, then we can both see?"
Rebecca hesitated. Her face was very pale. She looked with an
appeal that was fairly agonizing at her sister Caroline.
"Why don't you put the lamp on this table, as she says?" asked
Caroline, almost fiercely. "Why do you act so, Rebecca?"
"I should think you WOULD ask her that," said Mrs. Brigham. "She
doesn't act like herself at all."
Rebecca took the lamp and set it on the table in the middle of the
room without another word. Then she turned her back upon it
quickly and seated herself on the sofa, and placed a hand over her
eyes as if to shade them, and remained so.
"Does the light hurt your eyes, and is that the reason why you
didn't want the lamp?" asked Mrs. Brigham kindly.
"I always like to sit in the dark," replied Rebecca chokingly.
Then she snatched her handkerchief hastily from her pocket and
began to weep. Caroline continued to write, Mrs. Brigham to sew.
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