he white coolness of the pillows. Johanna, finding her thus, a short
time after, was alarmed, put questions of various kinds, felt sure the
sun had been too hot for her, and finally stood over the bed, holding
her unfailing remedy, a soothing powder for the nerves.

"Oh, do for goodness' sake, leave me alone, Joan," said Ephie. "I don't
want your powders. I am all right. Just let me be."

She drank the mixture, however, and catching sight of Johanna's anxious
face, and aware that she had been cross, she threw her arms round her
sister, hugged her, and called her a "dear old darling Joan." But there
was something in the stormy tenderness of the embrace, in the flushed
cheeks and glittering eyes that made Johanna even more uneasy. She
insisted upon Ephie lying still and trying to sleep; and, after taking
off her shoes for her, and noiselessly drawing down the blinds, she
went on tiptoe out of the room.

Ephie burrowed more deeply in her pillow, and putting both hands to her
cars, to shut out the world, went over the details of what had
happened. It was like a fairy-story. She walked lazily down the sunny
corridor, entered the class-room, and took off her hat, which Herr
Becker hung up for her, after having playfully examined it. She had
just taken her violin from its case, when he remembered something he
had to do in the BUREAU, and went out of the room, bidding her practise
her scales during his absence; she heard again and smiled at the funny
accent with which he said: "Just a moment." She saw the bare walls of
the room, the dust that lay white on the lid on the piano, was
conscious of the difficulties of C sharp minor. She even knew the very
note at which HE had been beside her--without a word of warning, as
suddenly as though he had sprung from the earth. She heard the cry she
had given, and felt his hands--the hands she had so often
admired--clasp her wrists. He was so close to her that she felt his
breath, and knew the exact shape of the diamond ring he wore on his
little finger. She felt, too, rather than saw the audacious admiration
of his eyes; and his voice was not the less caressing because a little
thick. And then--then--she burrowed more firmly, held her ears more
tightly to, laughed a happy, gurgling laugh that almost choked her:
never, as long as she lived, would she forget the feel of his moustache
as it scratched her lips!

When she rose and looked at herself in the glass, it seemed
extraordinary that