did not seem adapted to a one servant menage. There had been two before,
and in that, as in other things, she had gone right on in the same way.
Mrs. Hughes had been with her for several years but Lily had been there
only three or four months. She had been a strange addition to the
household; she laughed a good deal and tripped about at her work and
sang. But she had not sung so much of late and in the last few days had
plainly not been well.

"If she's really sick, we'll have to have a doctor for her," Mrs.
Williams said, her hand on the knob she was about to turn.

"She says she doesn't want a doctor," answered Mrs. Hughes, and again
her tone made Mrs. Williams look at her in impatient inquiry.

"Well, I'll go up after while and see her myself," she said, opening the
door of her room. "Meanwhile you look after her, please. And oh, Mrs.
Hughes," she called back, "I shan't want any dinner. I had a heavy tea
at the bazaar," she added hurriedly, and as if resentful of having to
make any explanation.

Alone, she took off her hat, pushed back her hair as if it oppressed
her, then sank into a low, luxurious chair and, eyes closed, pressed her
fingers over her temples as if to command quiet within. But after a
moment she impatiently got up and went over to her dressing-table and
sat looking into the mirror.

The thing that had started her afternoon wrong was that a friend of her
girlhood, whom she had not seen for about thirteen years, had appeared
unexpectedly at her table, startling her and then laughing at her
confusion. She had not known that Stella Cutting was in town; to be
confronted that way with some one out of the past had been unnerving,
and then she had been furious with herself for not being able more
easily to regain composure. People around her had seen; later she saw
them looking at her strangely, covertly interested when she spoke in
that sharp way to Mildred Woodbury because she had tossed things about.
She had been disturbed, for one thing, at finding Mildred Woodbury at
her table.

She was looking in the glass now because Stella Cutting had been one of
her bridesmaids. She was not able to put down a miserable desire to try
to see just what changes Stella had found.

The dissatisfaction in her face deepened with her scrutiny of it.
Doubtless Stella was that very minute talking of how pitifully Marion
Averley had changed; how her color used to be clear and even, features
firmly molded, eyes bright. S