Dora laughed a low, happy laugh.
"I was dreaming a dream that shall come true," she said, and having wished her mother and brother good-night, she ran lightly upstairs to her room.
But she did not undress and prepare for bed. She first of all wrapped an old shawl around her, and sat down at the little deal table on which stood her writing materials. Then she took from a drawer a sheet of manuscript paper, and with a ruler carefully ruled some lines. These formed divisions for the labours of each day in the week, and Dora then began to write the hours at which the many tasks she intended to do should begin and end.
"Mother thinks I am wanting in order and system," she said to herself with a smile, "but perhaps she will own herself just a little bit mistaken when she sees this."
Monday's work was thought over, and put down, and from early morning till late at night every minute was occupied. Tuesday was treated in the same fashion, and Wednesday was being taken into consideration, when there came a soft tap at her door. It was so soft that she did not hear it.
But on a repetition she said "Come in," and glancing up she saw it was Robert.
"Why! I thought you'd gone to bed hours ago," she exclaimed in surprise, "and you haven't even undressed yet."
"No, there's—there's something bothering me, and I saw a light under your door, and I thought perhaps you'd let me talk to you a bit."
"Oh dear!" said Dora, with a sigh. "And I did so want to finish this while I've got everything fresh in my mind." Then she added impatiently "Is it very particular, Robert?"
He did not answer, but bending over her table asked what she was doing.