“No, no, indeed.” Lois had quickly returned with the book under her arm.
“You are a student,” said the invalid, now wide awake. “I have often seen you pass with your books under your arm. Where is your school?”
“It’s Radcliffe.”
“Oh, how I envy you!” and Miss Ambrose sighed. “When I was your age I would have given all—”
A twinge of pain prevented her finishing the sentence. Lois laid down the book, and, lifting the coverlid, moved the foot to an easier position.
Again Miss Ambrose closed her eyes, and Lois, turning down the light, sat and watched her a little longer. It was now half-past seven and Lois felt faint. She had had nothing to eat since breakfast, except a light luncheon. Passing to the kitchen for the water for the compress, she had seen dishes piled on the table, and she judged that Miss Ambrose had had an early tea. Then Miss Ambrose opened her eyes.
“Perhaps you would like to study now; the light will not disturb me.”
“Thank you,” responded Lois. “I really need all the time I can have. I have an examination in psychology to-morrow.”
“Then pray go on without considering me. It is a great relief to me to know that you are here. But I feel so drowsy that if I fall asleep I am sure that you will excuse me.”
In a short time Miss Ambrose seemed to be really asleep, and Lois bent over her books with great zeal.