seemed to need cheering, and Edna was prepared to do any missionary
work which would be a help to her dear Thinkright.

"Thank you, but I couldn't," returned Sylvia hastily. "I couldn't,
possibly."

"I wonder what is the matter with her?" thought Miss Derwent, as she
made ready for bed that night. "Perhaps her bereavement is very recent.
At all events, she has come to the right place to be helped."

Sylvia, as soon as she had closed the door of her chamber, went to the
window and knelt down with her hot forehead against the cold glass. The
stars were twinkling in an invisible sky, and she could hear a rhythmic
sound of many waters.

That girl had everything. It wasn't fair. She knew Mr. Dunham well. He
was popular, he was admired. He was of Edna Derwent's world. She was
doubtless popular and admired. What would they both think of Nat?
Nat,--stout, red-faced, not too careful of his hands. Sylvia had often
demurred concerning his careless habits. Now she knew that they alone
made him impossible. There were many other things that made him
impossible, and strangely, they were all points which were the opposite
of certain characteristics she had observed in Mr. Dunham during their
brief but informal and almost intimate relation. Miss Derwent's speech
and pronunciation reminded her sharply of his, and as her thought dwelt
upon this enviable girl making ready for her healthful, care-free
slumber in the apartment usually sacred to Judge Trent, the burden of
Sylvia's vague and helpless future bore down upon her and seemed
heavier than she could bear. Long-repressed tears were rising
scaldingly to her eyes when she heard a light tap on her door.

It might be she! She shouldn't come in! With a light bound Sylvia was
at the door, pressing upon it.

"Who is it?" she demanded in a choked voice.

It was Thinkright's voice that answered her. "Gone to bed, or sitting
up, little one?" he asked.

"Well--I'm sitting up--so far," she answered, and she opened the door
slowly.

"I thought you might be feeling a little homesick, the first night in a
strange place," he went on, "and I wanted to say good-night to you once
again."

A great, resentful sob rose in the girl's breast, and with a sudden
impulse she flung both her arms around his neck.

"Kiss me," she said chokingly. "You kissed her. How did she dare to
kiss you!"

Thinkright drew the speaker out into the corridor as he caressed her
cheek. "Come downstairs a few minutes