e sprang into the cab, and they turned away
together,--"now for getting into the house as quietly as possible. No,"
trying to speak cheerily, and as if their position was no great matter,
"you must n't tremble, Mollie, and you mustn't cry. It is all over now,
and everything is as commonplace and easy to manage as can be. You have
been out, and have got the headache, and are going to bed. That is
all. All the rest we must forget. Nothing but a headache, Mollie, and
a headache is not much, so we won't fret about it. If it had been a
heartache, and sin and shame and sorrow--but it isn't. But, Mollie,"
they had already reached the house then, and stood upon the steps, and
she turned to the girl and put a hand on each of her shoulders, speaking
tremulously, "when you go up-stairs, kneel down by your bedside and say
your prayers, and thank God that it is n't,--thank God that it is n't,
with all your heart and soul." And she kissed her cheek softly just as
they heard Aimee coming down the hall to open the door.

"Dolly!" she exclaimed when she saw them, "where have you been? Griffith
has been here since five, and now he is out looking for you. I had given
you up entirely, but he would not. He fancied you had been delayed by
something."

"I have been delayed by something," said Dolly, her heart failing her
again. "And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed,
Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?"

"Scarcely ten minutes," was the answer. "It is a wonder you did not meet
him. Oh, Dolly!" ominously, "how unlucky you are!"

Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner.

"I _am_ unlucky," she said; and without saying more, she made her way
into the parlor.

She took her hat off there and tossed it on the sofa, utterly regardless
of consequences, and then dropped into her chair and looked round the
room. It did not look as she had pictured it earlier in the day. Its
cheerfulness was gone, and it looked simply desolate. The fire had sunk
low in the grate, and the hearth was strewn with dead ashes;--somehow
or other, everything seemed chilled and comfortless. She was too late
for the brightness and warmth,--a few hours before it had been bright
and warm, and Grif had been there waiting for her. Where was he now?
She dropped her face on the arm of her chair with a sob of disappointed
feeling and foreboding. What if he had seen them leave Ralph Gowan, and
had gone home!

"It's