ne out of her mind.

"The window of my room," she said, "is just over one of the windows of
yours."

I didn't know what to say. I really thought she must be slightly
deranged. I said lamely: "Which window?"

"The one by your bed, the one you always leave open so's the air can
get to you."

"Well, Hilda, what about it?"

"Sometimes I hear you talking in your sleep, and then I lean out of my
window and listen."

With this admission she blushed crimson and no longer looked me in the
eyes.

"Do you think that's quite fair?"

"I don't lead a very full life, Mr. Archie."

"And my unconscious prattle helps to fill it? Do I often talk in my
sleep?"

"You talked last night."

Her voice was full of meaning and somehow I felt chilled and no longer
so very gay and happy.

"What did I talk about?"

"About a lady."

With humiliation I realized that I was now turning red; but I laughed,
and said: "We look like a couple of boiled lobsters, Hilda. What did I
say about the lady?"

"You said--I only thought you ought to know that I know--so's--well
so's you can keep that window shut, and fix it so no one else will
know."

I felt like a convicted criminal.

"Did I--mention the lady's name?"

She nodded. "You were talking about Mrs. Fulton," she said in a low
voice, "only you didn't call her that."

"Hilda," I said firmly. "Mrs. Fulton and I are very old
friends--nothing more."

I could see that she didn't believe me, and I changed my tactics.
"You'll not talk, Hilda?"

Her face had resumed its natural color, and she now looked me once more
in the eyes. "I'd sooner die than hurt you, Mr. Archie."

"Why, Hilda----!"

All this time I had been sitting and talking over my shoulder, but now
I got quickly out of my chair, and drew her hands away from her face.
"Oh, Hilda, I _am_ so sorry. What _can_ I do? I'm so sorry, Hilda,
and so proud, too."

She looked up at that.

"You poor child! I feel like a dog, a miserable dog!"

"You couldn't help it, Mr. Archie. You can't help being you. Can you?"

She tried to smile.

"How long," I asked, "has it been like this?"

"Ever since the day I came--three years and two hundred and twenty-one
days ago--and I heard you say to Mrs. Mannering--to your
mother--'Mother,' you said, 'that new maid is as pretty as a picture.'
And that did it!"

"Hilda," I said as quietly as I could, "I'm more touched and flattered
than I can express. I'll be a good friend to