nd Phil had gone back to the studio, she looked so helpless and
woe-begone that Aimee felt constrained to comfort her.

"It may have been delayed," she whispered to her, "or he may have left
the house earlier than usual, and so won't see it until to-night. He
will be here to-night, Dolly, depend upon it."

And so they waited. Ah, how that window was watched that afternoon! How
often Dolly started from her chair and ran to look out, half suffocated
by her heart-beatings! But it was of no avail. As twilight came on
she took her station before it, and knelt upon the carpet for an hour
watching; but in the end she turned away all at once, and, running
to the fire again, caught Tod up in her arms, and startled Aimee by
bursting into a passion of tears.

"Oh, Tod!" she sobbed, "he is not coming! He will never come again,--he
has left us forever! Oh, Tod, love poor Aunt Dolly, darling." And she
hid her face on the little fellow's shoulder, crying piteously.

She did not go to the window again. When she was calmer, she remained on
her chair, colorless and exhausted, but clinging to Tod still in a queer
pathetic way, and letting him pull at her collar and her ribbons and her
hair. The touch of his relentless baby hands and his pretty, tyrannical,
restless ways seemed to help her a little and half distract her
thoughts.

She became quieter and quieter as the evening waned; indeed, she was so
quiet that Aimee wondered. She was strangely pale; but she did not start
when footsteps were heard on the street, and she ceased turning toward
the door when it opened.

"He--he may come in the morning," Aimee faltered as they went up-stairs
to bed.

"No, he will not," she answered her, quite steadily. "It will be as I
said it would,--he will never come again."

But when they reached their room, the unnatural, strained quiet gave
way, and she flung herself upon the bed, sobbing and fighting against
just the hysterical suffering which had conquered her the night before.

It was the very ghost of the old indomitable Dolly who rose the next
morning. Her hands shook as she dressed her hair, and there were shadows
under her eyes. But she must go back to Brabazon Lodge, notwithstanding.

"I can say I have a nervous headache," she said to Aimee. "Nervous
headaches are useful things."

"If a letter comes," said Aimee, "I will bring it to you myself."

The girl turned toward her suddenly, her eyes hard and bright and her
mouth working.