and seeking shelter there in her fear and pain. Fear and pain--why, what
was it? There was something cataclysmic, overpowering, that had
happened. What could it be? Something was hanging over her head, some
dreadful punishment. Her struggle to clear the mists from her brain
rendered her more wildly feverish, then stupefied her to heavy sleep.

When she awoke again it was to see the kindly fat face of Mrs. Mellen
beaming at her from the foot of the bed.

"That's it," she nodded approvingly; "you've had a nice nap. Head's
better, I'm sure. Here's another cup of tea, and I brought you up the
evening paper; thought you might want to look it over. And if you'll
give me your trunk checks, I'll send the expressman after your baggage."

"My trunk checks--what did I do with them? Why, of course, I gave them
to my maid."

A sudden instinct that she did not wish to see her maid, or be followed
by her baggage, made her stop short in her speech.

"Oh, your maid!" said Mrs. Mellen. "I'm glad you told me--I'll have to
hold a room. You didn't say anything about her last night, so I hadn't
made any provision. Dear, dear! And when do you calculate she's liable
to get here?"

Mrs. Marteen took refuge in her headache. "I don't know," she said
wearily; "perhaps not to-day."

"Oh, well, never mind. I dare say I can manage," Mrs. Mellen assured
her. "If you've got everything you want, I'll have to go. Do you think