am not at all tired," said Rose. She was all quivering with
impatience, but her voice was sweet and docile. She put up her face
for Sylvia to kiss. "Good-night, dear Aunt Sylvia," said she.

"Good-night," said Sylvia. Rose felt merely a soft touch of thin,
tightly closed lips. Sylvia did not know how to kiss, but she was
glowing with delight.

When she joined Henry in their bedroom down-stairs he looked at her
in some disapproval. "I don't think you'd ought to have gone in
there," he said.

"Why not?"

"Why, you must expect young folks to be young folks, and it was only
natural for them to want to set there in the moonlight."

"They can set in there in the moonlight if they want to," said
Sylvia. "I didn't hinder them."

"I think they wanted to be alone."

"When they set in the moonlight, I'm going to set, too," said Sylvia.
She slipped off her gown carefully over her head. When the head
emerged Henry saw that it was carried high with the same rigidity
which had lately puzzled him, and that her face had that same
expression of stern isolation.

"Sylvia," said Henry.

"Well?"

"Does anything worry you lately?"

Sylvia looked at him with sharp suspicion. "I'd like to know why you
should think anything worries me," she said, "as comfortable as we
are off now."

"Sylvia, have you got anything on your mind?"

"I don't want to see young folks making fools of themselves," said
Sylvia, shortly, and her voice had the same tone of deceit which Rose
had used when she spoke of the beautiful night.

"That ain't it," said Henry, quietly.

"Well, if you want to know," said Sylvia, "she's been pestering me
with wanting to pay board if she stays along here, and I've put my
foot down; she sha'n't pay a cent."

"Of course we can't let her," agreed Henry. Then he added, "This was
all her own aunt's property, anyway, and if there hadn't been a will
it would have come to her."

"There was a will," said Sylvia, fastening her cotton night-gown
tightly around her skinny throat.

"Of course she's going to stay as long as she's contented, and she
ain't going to pay board," said Henry; "but that ain't the trouble.
Have you got anything on your mind, Sylvia?"

"I hope so," replied Sylvia, sharply. "I hope I've got a little
something on my mind. I ain't a fool."

Henry said no more. Neither he nor Sylvia went to sleep at once. The
moon's pale influence lit their room and seemed disturbing in itself.
Presently they both s