impetuously declared, "It doesn't matter." But she seemed to think
better of it the next minute; for, throwing herself in a chair, she
bade the girl to bring a comb, and sat quiet enough, though evidently
in a great tremor of haste and impatience, while Loretta combed her
hair and put it up in the old way.

But the old way was not as becoming as usual, and Loretta was
wondering if she ought to call in Miss Tuttle, when Mrs. Jeffrey
jumped to her feet and went over to the table and began to eat with
the feverish haste of one who forces himself to take food in spite
of hurry and distaste.

This was the moment for Loretta to leave the room; but she did not
know how to do so. She felt herself fixed to the spot and stood
watching Mrs. Jeffrey till that lady, suddenly becoming conscious
of the girl's presence, turned, and in the midst of the moans which
broke unconsciously from her lips, said with a pitiable effort at
her old manner:

"Go away, Loretta; I am ill; have been ill for two days. I don't
like people to look at me like that!" Then, as the girl shrank
back, added in a breaking voice: "When Mr. Jeffrey comes home -" and
said no more for several minutes, during which she clutched her
throat with both hands and struggled with herself till she got her
voice back and found herself able to repeat: "When Mr. Jeffrey comes,
- if he does come, - tell him that I was right about the way that
novel ended. Remember that you are to say to him the moment you
see him that I was right about the novel, and that he is to look and
see if it did not end as I said it would. And "Loretta -" here she
rose and approached the speaker with a sweet, appealing look which