t Annie's door. She waited,
and knocked again. She was trembling from head to foot in a nervous
chill. She got no response to her knock. Then she called, "Annie,"
very softly. She waited and called again. At last, in desperation,
she opened the door, which was not locked. She entered, and the room
was empty. Suddenly she remembered that Annie, kind-hearted as she
was, and a good servant, had not a character above suspicion. She
remembered that she had heard Gladys intimate that she had a
sweetheart, and was not altogether what she should be. She gazed
around the empty, forlorn little room, with one side sloping with the
slope of the roof, and an utter desolation overcame her, along with a
horror of Annie. She felt that if Annie were there she would be no
refuge.

Maria turned, and slipped as silently as a shadow down the stairs
back to her room. She looked at her bed, and it seemed to her that
she could not lie down again in it. Then suddenly she thought of
something else. She thought of little Evelyn asleep in the next room.
She opened the connecting door softly and stole across to the baby's
little bed. It was too small, or she would have crept in beside her.
Maria hesitated a moment, then she slid her arms gently under the
little, soft, warm body, and gathered the child up in her arms. She
was quite heavy. At another time Maria, who had slender arms, could
scarcely have carried her. Now she bore her with entire ease into her
own room and laid her in her own bed. Then she got in beside her and
folded her little sister in her arms. Directly a sense of safety and
peace came over her when she felt the little snuggling thing, who had
wakened just enough to murmur something unintelligible in her baby
tongue, and cling close to her with all her little, rosy limbs, and
thrust her head into the hollow of Maria's shoulder. Then she gave a
deep sigh and was soundly asleep again. Maria lay awake a little
while, enjoying that sense of peace and security which the presence
of this little human thing she loved gave her. Then she fell asleep
herself.

She waked early. The thought of the early train was in her mind, and
Maria was always one who could wake at the sub-recollection of a
need. Evelyn was still asleep, curled up like a flower. Maria raised
her and carried her back to her own room and put her in her bed
without waking her. Then she dressed herself in her school costume
and went down-stairs. She had smelled coffee while