f at full length, and settled
her feet comfortably in the lace skirts, in which the high, sharp heels
tore two additional rents, and pulled the bandage from her forehead.

"Go ahead," she said, laconically. Druse dragged a chair to the side of
the couch, and for some minutes there was silence--that is, the
comparative silence that might exist in the Vere De Vere--while she
deftly touched the burning smooth flesh with her finger tips.

Miss De Courcy opened her eyes drowsily. "I guess I'm going to get a
nap, after all. You're doing it splendid. You'll come and see me again,
won't you? Say, don't tell your folks you was here to-day, will you?
I'll tell you why. I--I've got a brother that drinks. It's awful. He
comes to see me evenings a good deal, and some daytimes. They'd be
afraid he'd be home, 'n' they wouldn't let you come again. He's cross,
you see 'n' they'd never--let you come again 'f you--"

Miss De Courcy was almost overpowered by sleep. She roused herself a
moment and looked at Druse with dull pleading. "Don't you tell 'em,
will you? Promise! I want you to come again. A girl isn't to blame if
her father--I mean her brother--"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll promise, of course I will," said Druse hastily, her
thin little bosom swelling with compassion. "I won't never let 'em know
I know you, if you say so. No, ma'am, it's awful cruel to blame you for
your brother's drinkin'. I've got some pieces about it at home, about
folkses' families a-sufferin' for their drinkin'. I'd like to come again
if you want me. I'm afraid I ain't much company, but I could stroke your
head every time you have a headache. It's awful nice to know somebody
that's lived in the country and understands just how it is when you
first--"

Druse looked down. The doctor's remedy was apparently successful this
time, for with crimson cheeks and parted lips, Miss Blanche De Courcy
had forgotten her headache in a very profound slumber. Druse gazed at
her with mingled admiration and pity. No wonder the room seemed a
little untidy. She would have liked to put it to rights, but fearing she
might waken her new friend, who was now breathing very heavily, she only
pulled the shade down, and with a last compassionate glance at the
victim of a brother's intemperance, she picked up her crocheting and
tip-toed lightly from the room.

After that life in the Vere De Vere was not so dreary. Druse was not
secretive, but she had the accomplishment of silence, and she kep