er talk
about enjoying life, she did not look happy.

'All right,' said Doreen, with a shrug of her shoulders when Vava told
her. 'I'm sure I don't want to be a Pharisee, and if we've got no poker
to turn the conversation, as Mrs. Morrison has, we can use our tongues,
and perhaps she's right, and that it would be no good even for her to
talk to Eva; she's frightfully obstinate.'

The two Wharton sisters, it will be remembered, shared a large bedroom,
which was in the front of the house, and the other two girls had smaller
bedrooms at the back; while Mrs. Morrison's was half-way up the stairs,
and here Vava always went to say good-night and get her 'evening text'
from her old nurse, with whom it had been a practice ever since she had
been a little girl to say a text to her, generally one which she had
read that evening, to take to bed with her, as the old woman put it.

She had said good-night to the housekeeper, and was going to her own
room, when she heard what sounded like a moan from Eva's room as she
passed the door. 'Eva!' she cried, 'are you ill?'

There was no answer; but, as it seemed to the listener, a scuffle and a
kind of gasp. Vava had a vivid imagination, and her mind jumped to the
conclusion that this meant a burglar with whom Eva was struggling. Vava
was no coward, and she was a strong athletic girl as well, so she did
not hesitate a moment, but opened the door and burst into Eva's room.
She stopped in amazement, for there was no burglar; but Eva, her face
swollen with crying, was apparently making a survey of all her wardrobe
and other possessions, for the bed, chairs, and floor were strewn with
clothes, books, and all sorts of things.

'What do you want? Why didn't you knock at the door?' she inquired,
looking annoyed and trying to dry her eyes.

'I am very sorry; I thought you were ill, or that there was something
the matter,' stammered Vava, who wanted badly to comfort Eva, but did
not know how to set about it.

'There's nothing the matter; I'm simply tidying up, and had a fit of the
blues. Go to bed and don't say anything about it, there's a good girl,'
replied Eva.

'Good-night, Eva. I 'm sorry you've got the blues. Are you sure there is
nothing I can do for you?' asked Vava.

'No, nothing. Good-night,' said Eva, shutting and locking the door after
her visitor.

Vava went slowly upstairs. The voice in which Eva had said 'nothing'
made her feel miserable; but she did not see what she coul