r wedding cake made after my old
recipe. You are a good girl, Annie. You look like me. You are enough
sight better than you would be if you were better, and you can make
what you can out of that. Now, you must go to bed. You haven't told
Harriet and Susan yet, have you?"

"No, grandmother."

"I'll tell them myself in the morning," said the old lady with a
chuckle which made her ancient face a mask of mirth and mischief.
"Now, you run along and go to bed. This book is dull, but I want to
see how wicked the writer tried to make it and the heroine is just
making an awful effort to run away with a married man. She won't
succeed, but I want to see how near she gets to it. Good-night,
Annie. You can have the book to-morrow."

Annie went to her own room but she made no preparation for bed. She
had planned to work as she had worked lately until nearly morning.
She was hurrying to complete another book which she had begun before
Margaret Edes' announcement that she had written _The Poor Lady_. The
speedy completion of this book had been the condition of secrecy with
her publishers. However, Annie, before she lit the lamp on her table
could not resist the desire to sit for a minute beside her window and
gaze out upon the lovely night and revel in her wonderful happiness.
The night was lovely enough for anyone, and for a girl in the rapture
of her first love, it was as beautiful as heaven. The broad village
gleaming like silver in the moonlight satisfied her as well as a
street of gold and the tree shadows waved softly over everything like
wings of benediction. Sweet odours came in her face. She could see
the soft pallor of a clump of lilies in the front yard. The shrilling
of the night insects seemed like the calls of prophets of happiness.
The lights had gone out of the windows of the Edes' house, but
suddenly she heard a faint, very faint, but very terrible cry and a
white figure rushed out of the Edes' gate. Annie did not wait a
second. She was up, out of her room, sliding down the stair banisters
after the habit of her childhood and after it.

Chapter IX

Margaret Edes, light and slender and supple as she was, and moreover
rendered swift with the terrible spur of hysteria, was no match for
Annie Eustace who had the build of a racing human, being long-winded
and limber. Annie caught up with her, just before they reached Alice
Mendon's house, and had her held by one arm. Margaret gave a stifled
shriek. Even in hy