ly
disturbed her when she had been to a party the night before, and did
not waken until nearly noon. Then for a long while she lay there
conscious that something Terrible had happened to her, but not wholly
conscious, through the heaviness of her waking, just what it was. But
it dawned upon her fully in time, and she turned and buried her face in
her pillow with a little miserable cry.

It was the greyest sort of day, a real January day, with leaden clouds
that hung low to the earth. Snow clouds, they would have called them at
the Farm. When Arethusa looked out of the window, she was glad that the
sun was not shining: for what a mockery of Absolute Unhappiness a
sunshiny day would have seemed!

She dragged herself out of bed, and dressed herself slowly; it was as
if she were trying to postpone her inevitable appearance in public as
long as possible. When she had finished she stood and stared intently
at herself in the mirror. In such reality were the shame and
humiliation of the night just past still with her, that she could not
be sure that the roundness of that Kiss did not show plainly on her
lips for the observation of all beholders. But even her closest
scrutiny could not detect anything actually visibly different about her
mouth, though her eyes had unaccustomed deep shadows painted darkly
under them, and her face looked queerly white and drawn.

Arethusa drew herself to her fullest height and shook her shoulders
decidedly once or twice; Ross and Elinor must not know about This. They
must not even be permitted to suspect that anything was wrong.

They were just starting luncheon when she went downstairs.

Elinor glanced at Arethusa who came slowly into the little breakfast
room, where they always lunched, to greet her gayly.

"Did you have a good...." she began with eagerness, but she stopped
when she noticed those dark circles under the grey eyes, and her own
eyes widened in alarm, "Why, Arethusa, dearest, what on earth has
happened?"

And Arethusa, completely unnerved by the kindness of the anxious tone,
flew across the room and flopped down on the floor by Elinor's chair,
to bury her head in Elinor's lap and weep uncontrollably.

Over her bent red head, Ross and Elinor exchanged a few eyebrow
telegrams which could be translated easily as, "Gridley Bennet."

No one spoke to the sorrowing Arethusa though, and her mother stroked
her hair softly to help her somewhat toward a recovery. But after
awhile mu