make some break in the wall of reserve which Ethelinda still kept
persistently between them. But when she saw the preparations for
retiring she hesitated, perplexed.

"She's tired from her long journey," she thought, "so maybe I ought not
to sit up and keep the light burning. Maybe she'll appreciate it if I go
to bed, too. I can lie and think even if I'm not sleepy."

The rip in the skirt had to be mended, however, or she would not be
presentable in the morning. It was a small one, and she did not sit down
to the task, but in order that she might work faster stood up and took
short hurried stitches. Next, taking off her shoe to use the heel as a
hammer, she drove the nail in the wall over the side of her bed, and
hung the picture where she could see it the last thing at night and the
first in the morning. Then, retiring behind her screen, she made her
preparations for the night. They were completed long before Ethelinda's,
and climbing into bed she lay looking at the new picture, glad for this
opportunity to gaze at it to her heart's content.

It made her think of so many things that she loved to recall--little
incidents of her visit to The Locusts; and the smiling lips seemed to be
saying, "Don't you remember" in such a friendly companionable way that
she whispered to herself, "Oh, you dear! If you were only here this
year, what an angel of a chum you would make!"

Then she looked across at Ethelinda, who had arranged the windows to her
satisfaction and was now stretching the electric light cord from her
dressing table to her bed, so that the bulb would hang directly over it.
In another moment she had propped herself comfortably against the
pillows, and settled down with a book.