She opened the window-shutters to let in the daylight, and then she went and listened at the door communicating with Alden Lytton's room.
At first all was still. But presently she heard a step about the room, and soon after other motions that proved the inmate to be busy at his toilet.
"He is up and dressing himself. I have not returned one minute too soon," she said, as she seated herself in an easy-chair near the window.
The next moment the door opened and Alden Lytton entered, smiling.
"I do not know how to apologize for my stupid neglect. But I hope you will believe me when I assure you it was inadvertent. The truth is I overslept myself. I can't think what made me do it," he said, actually blushing like a boy at the thought of his involuntary sluggishness.
"You were very much fatigued last night. I am very glad you had a refreshing sleep. I hope you feel the better for it," she answered, with her sweet smile.
"Well, no; not much better. You know there is such a thing as taking too much sleep. I feel quite as if I had taken twice too much—dull and heavy, with a stupid headache. I never was inebriated in my life, but I should think a man that had been so, over night, would feel just as I do this morning."
"Ah, I am sorry! But the fresh air will do you good, no doubt."
"No doubt. And really it is not worth speaking of. I see you have your hat on. You have been taking a walk this fine morning, while I lay like a sluggard, sleeping myself into a headache?"
"No, I have not been out. I put my hat on merely to be ready to start the moment we had breakfasted. For I must go and see the principal of the ladies' school this morning."