Isabel exclaimed, "Why, Dolly, there is no hurry. You needn't run away while Emmeline is here."
"I may not have time by-and-by," said Dolly, and she escaped without saying good-bye.
Twenty minutes later Margot went upstairs, and found Dolly, as she expected, in her bedroom. The supply of Christmas roses had been turned out upon a small table, and the vase had been filled with fresh water. Dolly stood with her back to the door, snipping at the ends of the stalks in most businesslike style; but the next moment Margot saw tears running fast down her cheeks.
"My dear Dolly!" she said gently.
"I haven't—quite done," Dolly murmured.
Margot stood for a few seconds watching; but the tears streamed on. Dolly's lips quivered unmanageably, and it was evident that she could not see what she was doing. Margot drew the scissors out of her hand, sat down, and took Dolly into her arms. There was a momentary of effort at resistance; and then Dolly gave in, hid her face, and broke into bitter sobbing.
"Poor little Dolly! Dear little Dolly! Never mind! A good cry will make you feel better."
"O Margot! It is so hard. I don't know how to bear it!"
So much and no more reached Margot's ears. She attempted no answer at first, but stroked the fair hair and kissed the hot brow over and over again, with comforting whispers. Presently, when the sobs lessened, she asked—
"What is it that seems so hard?"