She had locked her door, and lay on her bed fully dressed. She made up her mind that when Aunt Maria came she would pretend to be asleep. She felt that she could not face Aunt Maria's wondering questions. Then she reflected that Aunt Maria would be home soon, and a malicious joy seized her that Lily would not have George Ramsey long to herself. Indeed, it was scarcely half-past eight before Maria heard the side-door open. Then she heard, quite distinctly, Aunt Maria's voice, although she could not distinguish the words. Maria laughed a little, smothered, hysterical laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It was, in fact, ludicrous. Aunt Maria entered the sitting-room, a grotesque figure in her black skirt bundled up under Maria's waterproof, which was powdered with snow. She wore her old black bonnet, and the wind had tipped that rakishly to one side. She stared at Lily and George Ramsey, who both rose with crimson faces. "Good-evening," Lily ventured, feebly. "Good-evening, Miss Stillman," George said, following the girl's lead. Then, as he was more assured, he added that it was a very stormy night. George had been sitting on one side of the stove, Lily on the other, in the chairs which Maria and Lily had occupied before the young man's arrival. They had both sprung up with a guilty motion when Aunt Maria entered. Aunt Maria stood surveying them. She did not return their good-evenings, nor George's advance with regard to the weather. Her whole face expressed severe astonishment. Her thin lips gaped slightly, her pale eyes narrowed. She continued to look at them, and they stood before her like culprits. "Where's Maria gone?" said Aunt Maria, finally, in a voice which seemed to have an edge to it. Then Lily spoke with soft and timid volubility. "Maria said her head ached so she thought she had better go to bed, Miss Stillman," she said. "I didn't hear anything about any headache before I went away. Must have come on mighty sudden," said Aunt Maria. "She said it ached very hard," repeated Lily. "And when the door-bell rang, when Mr. Ramsey came--" "It's mighty queer she should have had a headache when George Ramsey rang the door-bell," said Aunt Maria. "I guess it must have ached before," said Lily, faintly. "I should suppose it must have," Aunt Maria said, sarcastically. "I don't see any reason why Maria's head should begin to ache when the door-bell rang." "Of course," said Lily. "I suppose she just felt she couldn't talk, that was all." "It's mighty queer," said Aunt Maria. She stood quite immovable. She was so stern that even her rakishly tipped bonnet did not seem at all funny. She looked at Lily and George Ramsey, and did not make a movement to remove her wraps. Lily took a little, faltering step towards her. "You are all covered with snow, Miss Stillman," she said, in her sweet voice. "I don't mind a little snow," said Aunt Maria.