"Poor child--you know I've always felt just the way she does, Walter."
Aunt Em's gentle sigh came once more.

The next morning Aunt Em appeared in Gloria's room before that leisurely
young person had decided to get up. She was lying in one of the pleasant
intervals between dozes, drowsily conscious that the sunshine was
streaming across her feet in a warm flood, and that somewhere children
were playing.

'"Lazy girl!" cried Aunt Em in the door. The lazy girl turned without
surprise. She was used to early visits. "Perhaps you might like to know
the time of day--"

"Oh, say it's 'most bedtime, auntie, then I won't have to get up at
all!"

"Nine o'clock!"

Gloria laughed. "Call that late! Why, it might be ten, eleven, twelve!
Besides, I had to make up for my nightmares--auntie, I spent nearly all
night walking up Treeless Street. I couldn't get out; I thought I'd got
to stay there always. The little ragamuffins wouldn't any of them tell
me the way out, not even Dinney. I wouldn't have believed it of Dinney!"
Aunt Em's face smiled down at the girl among the tumbled pillows. "Poor
dear! You have so many troubles!" Aunt Em sympathized in gentle irony.

Gloria sat up straight. "You're making fun! Well, I don't suppose I
can complain. It isn't to be wondered at that you can't believe I'd be
troubled at other folks' troubles. Honest, auntie, I never was till
yesterday on that street!"