Suddenly and acutely Linda was lonely--a new kind of loneliness that
had nothing to do with the fact that she was by herself. It was a
strange cold unhappiness, pressing over her like a cloud and, at the
same time, it was nothing at all. That is, there was no reason for
it. The room was brightly lighted and, anyhow, she wasn't afraid of
"things." She thought that at any minute she must cry like that
baby. After a little she felt better; rather the unhappiness changed
to wanting. What she wanted was a puzzle; but nothing else would
satisfy her. It might be a necklace of little pearls, but it wasn't.
It might be--. Now it was twelve o'clock. Dear, dear, why didn't she
come back!

Music, awfully faint, and a whisper, like a dress, across the floor.
Her emotion changed again, to an extraordinary delight, a glow like
that which filled her at the expression of her adoration for her
mother, but infinitely greater. She was seated, and she lifted her
head with her eyes closed and hands clasped. The clock pointed to
one and her parent came into the room.

"Linda," she exclaimed crossly, "whatever are you doing up? A bad
little girl. I told you to be asleep hours before this."

"There is something you had to know right away," Linda informed her
solemnly. "I only just heard it from Mrs. Randall and Miss
Skillern." Her mother's flushed face hardened. "Mr. Jasper is
married," Linda said.

Mrs. Condon dropped with an angry flounce into a chair. Her broad
scarf of sealskin slipped from one shoulder. Her hat was crooked and
her hair disarranged. "So that's it," she said bitterly; "and they