Explore "Jane Field" by Mary E. Wilkins on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There Lois stood. Her small worn shoes hesitated on the threshold. She was gotten up in her poor little best -- her dress of cheap brown wool stuff, with its skimpy velvet panel, her hat trimmed with a fold of silk and a little feather. She had curled her hair over her forehead, and tied on a bit of a lace veil. Distinct among all this forlorn and innocent furbishing was her face, with its pitiful, youthful prettiness, turning toward her mother and the lawyer with a very clutch of vision.
Mrs. Field got up. "Oh, it's you, Lois," she said, calmly. "You thought you'd come too, didn't you?"