Monica stood still, hesitated, and at length said,—
“Well—I have found some one.”
“You have?” The girl all but danced with joy. “You really have?”
“Yes—so now don’t trouble me any more.”
This time she was allowed to turn back and enter the house.
No one else had yet come in. Monica ate a mouthful of bread and cheese, which was in readiness on the long table down in the basement, and at once went to bed. But no welcome drowsiness fell upon her. At half-past eleven, when two of the other five girls who slept in the room made their appearance, she was still changing uneasily from side to side. They lit the gas (it was not turned off till midnight, after which hour the late arrivals had to use a candle of their own procuring), and began a lively conversation on the events of the day. Afraid of being obliged to talk, Monica feigned sleep.
At twelve, just as the gas went out, another pair came to repose. They had been quarrelling, and were very gloomy. After a long and acrimonious discussion in the dark as to which of them should find a candle—it ended in one of the girls who was in bed impatiently supplying a light—they began sullenly to throw off their garments.
“Is Miss Madden awake?” said one of them, looking in Monica’s direction.
There was no reply.
“She’s picked up some feller to-day,” continued the speaker, lowering her voice, and glancing round at her companions with a grin. “Or else she’s had him all along—I shouldn’t wonder.”