umber of
the professors have typewriting to be done, and they will be glad to
give their manuscripts to you instead of sending them to Boston. And
there's Brooks Insall too--if he ever takes it into his head to write
another book. You wouldn't have any trouble reading his manuscript,
it's like script. Of course it has to be copied. You can board with Mrs.
Case--I've arranged that, too. But on Monday I'm going to take you to my
house, and keep you until you're strong enough to walk."

Janet's eyes were suddenly bright with tears.

"You'll stay?"

"I can't," answered Janet. "I couldn't."

"But why not? Have you any other plans?"

"No, I haven't any plans, but--I haven't the right to stay here."
Presently she raised her face to her friend. "Oh Mrs. Maturin, I'm so
sorry! I didn't want to bring any sadness here--it's all so bright and
beautiful! And now I've made you sad!"

It was a moment before Augusta Maturin could answer her.

"What are friends for, Janet," she asked, "if not to share sorrow with?
And do you suppose there's any place, however bright, where sorrow has
not come? Do you think I've not known it, too? And Janet, I haven't sat
here all these days with you without guessing that something worries
you. I've been waiting, all this time, for you to tell me, in order that
I might help you."

"I wanted to," said Janet, "every day I wanted to, but I couldn't. I
couldn't bear to trouble you with it, I didn't mean ever to tell you.
And then--it's so terrible, I don't know what you'll think."

"I think I know you, Janet," answered Mrs. Maturin. "Nothing human,
nothing natural is terrible, in the sense you mean. At least I'm one of
those who believe so."

Presently Janet said, "I'm going to have a child."

Mrs. Maturin sat very still. Something closed in her throat, preventing
her immediate reply.

"I, too, had a child, my dear," she answered. "I lost her." She felt the
girl's clasp tighten on her fingers.

"But you--you had a right to it--you were married. Children are sacred
things," said Augusta Maturin.

"Sacred! Could it be that a woman like Mrs. Maturity thought that this
child which was coming to her was sacred, too?

"However they come?" asked Janet. "Oh, I tried to believe that, too! At
first--at first I didn't want it, and when I knew it was coming I was
driven almost crazy. And then, all at once, when I was walking in
the rain, I knew I wanted it to have--to keep all to myself. You
understa