partakes of the nature of its occupant; and the atmosphere of this one
always made her heart sink with a quiver of loneliness over the strange
chill of lifelessness there in spite of the rosy drop-light, the
fluttering curtains, and the drifting breath of flowers. It was a large
room with many easy chairs in it--and they were all empty. Even when Miss
Thorne was there it seemed lonesome, perhaps because she was such a
slender little woman and so icily quiet.

Berta chose one of the empty chairs and read the letter. Then she let the
sheets fall loose in her lap and sat there without moving while the
minutes went creeping by and the transparent curtains rippled now and
then in the evening breeze. Through the window she could see a great star
hanging above the peak of a shadowy evergreen that stirred softly to and
fro against the fading sky. Once the twilight call of a distant robin
sounded its long-drawn plaintive music, and Berta felt her lip tremble.
She raised her hand half unconsciously to soothe the ache in her throat.

Miss Thorne glided in. "Good evening, Miss Abbott. May I add my
congratulations, or am I right in concluding that you have taken refuge
here from the persecutions of your friends? It is a great pleasure to me
to know that you will have the opportunity to keep on with your studying
this next year. You must allow me to say so much at least. And now, with
regard to the essay----"

Berta watched the slight figure move noiselessly about in the act of
making tea.

"I wished to call your attention particularly, Miss Abbott, to the
qualities which strike me as most promising. A vast amount of futile
effort is wasted every year by workers who have not yet recognized their
special talents. There is continual friction between the round peg and
the square hole, and vice versa. Now in your case, when you are ready to
plan your course of study for your graduate work abroad----"

"Don't!"

The tone was so sharp that Miss Thorne lifted her head quickly and shot a
keen glance at the girl before her. The attractive face had grown
strained and the eyes were burning restlessly.

"What is it, Berta?" No student had ever heard her voice so soft before.
"You are in trouble."

Berta looked at her for a moment without replying. Then she picked up her
letter, folded it carefully in its original creases, and fitted it into
the envelope. "Yes," she said at last, "I am in trouble. My sister-in-law
has lost her income f