herself.
She rose, threw a shawl over her shoulders, and went straight to the
window next the Merrill house, whence the sound had come. She opened
it cautiously and peered out. Down on the ground below stood a long,
triangle-shaped figure, like a night-moth.

"Who is it?" Maria called, in a soft voice. She was afraid, for some
reason which she could not define, of awakening her aunt. She was
more afraid of that than anything else.

A little moan answered her; the figure moved as if in distress.

"Who is it? What do you want?" Maria asked again.

A weak voice answered her then, "It's I."

"Who's I? Lily?"

"Yes. Oh, do let me in, Maria." Lily's voice ended in a little,
hysterical sob.

"Hush," said Maria, "or Aunt Maria will hear you. Wait a minute."
Maria unlocked her door with the greatest caution, opened it, and
crept down-stairs. Then she unlocked and opened the front door.
Luckily Aunt Maria's room was some feet in the rear. "Come quick,"
Maria whispered, and Lily came running up to her. Then Maria closed
and locked the front door, while Lily stood trembling and waiting.
Then she led her up-stairs in the dark. Lily's slender fingers closed
upon her with a grasp of ice. When they were once in Maria's room,
with the door closed and locked, Maria took hold of Lily violently by
the shoulders. She felt at once rage and pity for her.

"What on earth is the matter, Lily Merrill, that you come over here
this time of night?" she asked. Then she added, in a tone of horror,
"Lily Merrill, you haven't a thing on but a skirt and your night-gown
under your shawl. Have you got anything on your feet?"

"Slippers," answered Lily, meekly. Then she clung to Maria and began
to sob hysterically.

"Come, Lily Merrill, you just stop this and get into bed," said
Maria. She unwound Lily's shawl, pulled off her skirt, and fairly
forced her into bed. Then she got in beside her. "What on earth is
the matter?" she asked again.

Lily's arm came stealing around her and Lily's cold, wet cheek
touched her face. "Oh, Maria!" she sobbed, under her breath.

"Well, what is it all about?"

"Oh, Maria, are--are you--"

"Am I what?"

"Are you going with him?"

"With whom?"

"With George--with George Ramsey?" A long, trembling sob shook Lily.

"I am going with nobody," answered Maria, in a hard voice.

"But he came home with you. I saw him; I did, Maria." Lily sobbed
again.

"Well, what of it?" asked Maria, impatiently. "I didn