r the day to bring her something that it never
brought. Lawson's death--Girard--Billy, who was getting a little
troublesome lately--the dear little brothers far away, mixed up with
tiny household perplexities, kept going through and through her mind.
Her heart was wrung for Justin and Lois; yet they had each other! Dreams
could no longer comfort and support Dosia. Prayer but wakened her
further. If she could only sleep and forget!

To-night she heard Justin's return from the automobile ride; apparently
the machine had broken down, but the accident seemed only to have added
to the zest. Lois was still dressed and waiting up for him. Then Girard
came--he had seen the light in the window. Dosia could hear the
murmuring of the voices down-stairs--Girard's sent the blood leaping to
her heart so fast that she pressed her hands against it. For a moment
his face seemed near, his lips almost touched hers--her heart stopped
before it went on again. Why had he come now? It seemed suddenly an
unbearable thing that those others down-stairs should see him and hear
him, and that she could not. Why, oh, why, had she gone to bed so early
to-night of all nights? She was ready to cry with the passion of a
disappointment that seemed, not a little thing, but something crushing
and calamitous, a loss for which she never could be repaid. She could
imagine Justin and Lois meeting the kind glances of those gray eyes,
smiling when he did. He was beautiful when he smiled! She was within a
few yards of him, but convention, absurd yet maddening, held her in its
chains. She couldn't get dressed and break in upon their intimate
conference--or it seemed as if she could not. Besides, he would probably
go very soon. But he did not go! After a while she could lie there no
longer. She crept out upon the landing of the stairs, and sat there
desolately on the top step, "in her long night-gown, sweet as boughs of
May," with her little bare feet curled over each other, and her hands
clasping the balustrade against which her cheek was pressed, watching
and waiting for him to go. The ends of her long fair hair fell into
large loose curls where it hung over her shoulder, as she bent to
listen--and to listen--and to listen.

"I want to be there, too--I want to be there, too!" she whispered, with
quivering lips, in her voice the sobbing catch of a very little child.
"I want to be there, too. They're having it all--without me. And I want
to be there, too. They mig