s
yet; he knew no more than she did; she must wait. She went
back to her sofa and her musing.

The windows were open, but with the sultry breath of August
little din of business came into the room; the place was very
quiet. The house was empty and still; seldom a footfall could
be heard overhead. Clam was busy, up stairs and down, but she
went with a light step when she pleased, and she pleased it
now. It was a relief to have the change of falling night; and
then the breeze from the sea began to come in at the windows
and freshen the hot rooms; and twilight deepened. Elizabeth
wished for a light then, but for once in her life hesitated
about ringing the bell; for she had heard Clam going up and
down and feared she might be busied for some one else. And she
thought, with a heart full, how dismal this coming on of night
would have been, but for the friend up stairs. Elizabeth
wished bitterly she could follow his advice.

She sat looking out of the open window into the duskiness, and
at the yellow lights of the street lamps which by this time
spotted it; thinking so, and feeling very miserable. By and by
Clam came in with a candle and began to let down the blinds.

"What are you going to do?" said her mistress. "You needn't
pull those down."

"Folks'll see in," said Clam.

"No they won't -- there's no light here."

"There's goin' to be, though," said Clam. "Things is goin'
straight in this house, as two folks can make 'em."

"I don't want anything -- you may let the lamps alone, Clam."

"I dursn't," said Clam, going on leisurely to light the two
large burners of the mantle lamps, -- "Mr. Winthrop told me to
get tea for you and do everything just as it was every night;
so I knowed these had to be flarin' up -- You ain't goin' to be
allowed to sit in the shades no longer."

"I don't want anything!" said Elizabeth. "Don't bring any tea
here."

"Then I'll go up and tell him his orders is contradickied,"
said Clam.

"Stop!" said her mistress when she had reached the door
walking off, -- "don't carry any foolish speech up stairs at
such a time as this; -- fetch what you like and do what you
like, -- I don't care."

The room was brilliantly lighted now; and Clam set the salver
on the table and brought in the tea-urn; and miserable as she
felt, Elizabeth half confessed to herself that her coadjutor
up stairs was right. Better this pain than the other. If the
body was nothing a gainer, the mind perhaps might be,