he could no longer restrain herself, but began to cry.

Both Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Wilson would have consoled her with well
chosen words of sympathy. The men laughed and declared that they were so
accustomed to dropping their shoes in the middle of the floor that they
had not recognized the signs of disorder; that they supposed that the
floor was the legitimate place for shoes. But treating the matter lightly
did not rid Elizabeth of her shame and embarrassment. She was unable to
control herself. Slipping into the bedroom, she threw herself face
downward on the pillow and sobbed herself to sleep.

When she awakened, she found that the guests and Miss Wilson had departed.
She prepared for bed and was standing in her night clothes when Mary came
back into the room, a tearful little maiden. But Miss Wilson was unmoved.

"I'm so sorry and--ashamed," began Elizabeth.

"You should be," was the unfeeling response.

"It shall never happen so again," contritely.

"I'm sure it will not, for after this I'll see to it that the room is in
order after you get through dressing."

"Oh, Mary, don't be so hard. Won't you forgive me? I'm sure I'm ashamed
enough."

"It is no use talking further about it," was the grim response. "The
thing's done and cannot be undone by any amount of talking. You mortified
me before my best friends, and I can not forget it soon. When I can, I'll
tell you. But please don't mention the subject to me again."

That was all, but it was enough. Elizabeth crept into bed and turned her
face to the wall. She had no desire to cry now. Anger and grief were
holding equal places with her.

She was too young and healthy and sleepy to stay awake long. She had been
sleeping uneasily when she awoke from a horrible nightmare. She had
dreamed that a most formidable array of shoes and stockings, hats and
coats in the form of grinning spectres were hovering about her ready to
seize her. When she was wide awake, she remembered the cause of her dream.
She remembered, too, that she had not put the sitting-room in order.

Crawling softly from bed, she crept into the study. It seemed as though
each chair, in a conspiracy to make her efforts difficult, stood in her
path. She turned on the gas and gathered together her possessions. Then
she crept back to her nest again, hoping that the spectres of her
negligence would not haunt her.

CHAPTER V.

A BOX FROM HOME.

For some days the relations between Elizabeth a