opening the door, for she wheeled impetuously about and Loretta saw
her face. It was as if a blight had passed over it. Once gay and
animated beyond the power of any one to describe, it had become in
twenty-four hours a ghost's face, with the glare of some awful
resolve on it. Or so it would appear from the way Loretta described
it. But such girls do not always see correctly, and perhaps all
that can be safely stated is that Mrs. Jeffrey was unnaturally pale
and had lost her butterfly-like way of incessant movement.

Loretta, who was evidently accustomed to seeing her mistress arrayed
in brilliant colors and much begemmed, laid great stress on the fact
that, though it was on the verge of evening and she was evidently
going out, she was dressed in black cloth and without even a diamond
or a flower to relieve its severe simplicity. Her hair, too, which
was always her pride, was piled in a careless mass upon her head as
if she had tried to arrange it herself and had forgotten what she
was doing while her fingers were but half through their work. There
was a cloak lying on a chair near which she was standing, and she
held a hat in her band; but Loretta saw no gloves. As the maid's
glance and that of her mistress crossed, Mrs. Jeffrey spoke, and the
effort she made in doing so naturally frightened the girl still
more. "I am going out," were her words. "I may not be home till
late - What are you looking at?"

Loretta declared that the words took her by surprise and that she
did not know what to say, but managed to cover up her embarrassment
by intimating that if her mistress would let her touch up her hair
a bit she would make her look more natural.

At this suggestion, Mrs. Jeffrey cast a glance in the glass and