ing no one, she made
her way home again. It was very aggravating having to keep her great
ideas bottled up till morning, but it could not be helped. When she
reached home again, Lucy was still there, but she had her hat on ready to
start.

"I wish you hadn't to go," said Granny Barnes, wistfully. "I wish you
could stay here the night."

Lucy looked at her anxiously. "Are you feeling very nervous, mother?
Would you rather I stayed? I will if you wish."

"No,--oh, no," granny protested, though she would have liked it above all
things. "I wasn't thinking about myself; I was thinking about you, up
there all alone."

"Oh, I shall be all right. I am getting used to it. Now you go to bed
early, and try to go to sleep, then you won't notice the weather. You are
looking dreadfully tired. Good night--good night, Mona."

"I think I'll do as Lucy said," said granny a little while later. "I'm
feeling tireder than ever in my life before. If I was in bed now this
minute, I believe I could sleep. If I once got off I feel as if I could
sleep for ever." And by half-past eight the house was shut up, and they
had gone to bed.

Granny, at least, had gone to bed, and had fallen almost at once into a
heavy slumber. Mona was more wakeful. The news of her teacher's
engagement had excited her, and not having been able to talk it out, her
brain was seething with ideas.

She put out her candle, drew back her curtains, and looked out into the
gathering darkness. An air of gloom and loneliness reigned over
everything. Far out she could see white caps on the waves, but not a
boat, or vessel of any kind. The sky looked full and lowering.

With a little shiver Mona drew her curtains again and relighted her
candle. As it flickered and burnt up, her eyes fell on the book so
reluctantly put aside until to-morrow.

"Oh, I wish I could have just a little read," she thought, longingly.
"Just a look to see what happens next."

She took up the book and opened it, glancing over the chapters she had
read--then she turned to the one she and granny were going to read
to-morrow. Her eyes travelled greedily over a few paragraphs, then she
turned the page. Presently she grew tired of standing, and sat on the
side of the bed, lost to everything but the pages she was devouring
hungrily. The wind blew her curtains about, the rain drove against the
panes, but Mona did not heed either. She had drawn herself up on the bed
by that time and,