w then, but continued to chatter, her
pretend-conversation, loving, confidential, and consoling.

Finally, "Moth-er," she plead, "will you please sing?"

She sang. Her voice was husky from crying. More than once it quavered
and broke. But the song was one she had heard in the long, raftered
living-room at Johnnie Blake's. And it soothed.

"Oh, it is not while beauty and youth are thine o-o-own,
And thy cheek is unstained by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be kno-o-own--"

It grew faint. It ended--in a long sigh. Then one small hand in the
gentle make-believe grasp of another, she slept.

CHAPTER VII

Miss Royle looked sober as she sipped her orange-juice. And she cut off
the top of her breakfast egg as noiselessly as possible. Her directions
to Thomas, she half-whispered, or merely signaled them by a wave of her
coffee-spoon. Now and then she glanced across the room to the
white-and-gold bed. Then she beamed fondly.

As for Thomas, he fairly stole from tray to table, from table to tray,
his face all concern. Occasionally, if his glance followed Miss Royle's,
he smiled--a broad, sympathetic smile.

And Jane was subdued and solicitous. She sat beside the bed, holding a
small hand--which from time to time she patted encouragingly.

After the storm, calm. The more tempestuous the storm, the more perfect
the calm. This was the rule of the nursery. Gwendolyn, lying among the
pillows, wished she could always feel weak and listless. It made
everyone so kind.

"Thomas," said Miss Royle, as she folded her napkin and rustled to her
feet, "you may call up the Riding School and say that Miss Gwendolyn
will not ride to-day."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And, Jane, you may go out for the morning. I shall stay here."

"Thanks," acknowledged Jane, in a tone quite unusual for her. She did
not rise, however, but waited, striving to catch Thomas's eye.

"And, Thomas," went on the governess, "when would _you_ like an hour?"

Thomas advanced with a bow of appreciation. "If it's all the same to
you, Miss Royle," said he, "I'll have a bit of an airin' directly after
supper this evenin'."

Jane glared.

"Very well." Miss Royle rustled toward the school-room, taking a survey
of herself in the pier-glass as she went. "Jane," she added, "you will
be free to go in half an hour." She threw Gwendolyn a loud kiss.

Thomas was directing his attention to the clearing of the
breakfast-table. The moment the