"Well, I can never tell you, Claire, dear, how dreadfully I feel about it all," said Rosanna, kissing her friend's wet cheek. "But I am glad you have told me. We will bear it together, and I am sure that will make it easier for you. And as far as you are concerned, I am perfectly sure that is nothing at all but imagination." She slid down and once more took Claire's head on her loving little arm. "You are so tired, dear," she said. "Let us rest awhile, and then when you feel better, I will tell you about my mother and father. Wouldn't you like to hear about them?"
"I would love to," said Claire. "Oh, it is easier to bear now that you are sharing it with me," she murmured.
"Rest," said Rosanna softly, catching a sleepy note in the tired voice. Then suddenly, "Where is your mother now?"
"At a place called Laurel Hill Home, just outside of Cincinnati," said Claire, and in two minutes her regular heavy breathing told Rosanna that she was sound asleep.
And in about two minutes more two girls, cuddled close, were dreamlessly sleeping.
When they woke the following morning they found the blinds drawn so there was a soft twilight in the room, but on the pavement outside they could hear the shuffle and patter of many feet going to the Christian Science temple near by.
Claire rubbed her sleepy eyes, then leaned over and patted Rosanna.
"Will you ever forgive me for keeping you awake all night?" she asked wistfully. "What a selfish girl I am!"
"Indeed, you are not!" declared Rosanna. "Goodness me, what time is it? Do I hear people going past to church?"
"You do," laughed Claire.