"Can I do anything? Wait a moment——" She continued on to her bed-room, unpinned her hat, drew on her working smock, and came slowly back, buttoning it.
"What's wrong, Steve?" she inquired.
"Nothing," said the girl, drearily. "I'm just—tired."
"Why—you've been crying!" murmured Helen, bending over her. "What is making you so unhappy, Steve? Don't you wish to tell me?"
"N-no."
"Shall I sit here by you, dear? I can work this afternoon——"
"No.... It's nothing at all—truly it isn't."
"Had you rather be alone?"
"Yes."
Helen went slowly away toward the court where her nag and its rider were ready for her. Stephanie lay motionless, dumb, wretched, her bosom throbbing with emotions too powerful for her—yet too vague, too blind, to enlighten her.