And she walked up to Edna, who was vainly trying to undo her water-proof. At sight of Maude, who had known Charlie so well, there had swept over Edna a faint, dizzy feeling, which made her for a moment very pale and weak; then the hot blood came surging back to her cheeks, which were bright as carnations by the time the troublesome knot had been untied by Maude Somerton’s skilful fingers. “What a little dot of a girl you are,” Maude said, when at last Edna was disrobed and stood before the fire. “And you are so much taller than I had supposed,” Edna replied, looking up into the sunny blue eyes, which were regarding her so intently. “Yes; I must seem a perfect amazon to one as _petite_ as yourself. I used to want to stop growing, and once actually thought of tying a stone to my head, as Charlie Churchill teasingly suggested.” Edna felt a great heart throb at the mention of that name, but made no reply, and Maude continued: “I suppose it is time now to dress for dinner. Becky tells me that on ‘Miss Louise’s’ account, they dine after your school hours, by which I see that your position with Uncle Phil is in all respects ‘_comme il fait_,’ but you must have commenced on the lower round. Did you try the little back chamber?” and Maude’s eyes brimmed with mischief as she asked the question. “Yes, and nearly froze for half an hour or so. Were you put in there, too?” “Yes, and nearly melted. Of course you were promoted to the north-west room next.” Edna, who knew nothing of the gradation by which she had reached her present comfortable apartment, pleaded _not guilty_ to the north-west room, whereat Maude professed to feeling terribly aggrieved at the partiality shown. “It must be because you are a _little dot_,” she said; “and because—,” she hesitated a moment, and then added, softly, “because of your deep mourning and trouble. That always opens one’s heart. Mr. Overton told me all about you.” Maude’s face was turned away from Edna, and so she did not see the violent start, as Edna asked: “What did he tell you about me?” “Oh, nothing improper,” and Maude put a part of her front hair in her mouth, while she twisted her back locks into a massive coil. “He said you had lost your father and mother, and that made me feel for you at once, for I am an orphan, too; he said, also, that since their death, you had had a hard time generally, and was obliged to teach school, every item of which will apply to me. I am a poor schoolma’am,—which, in New York society, don’t pass for much; and if Uncle Burton should close his doors upon me, I should have nowhere to lay my head, and so you see we ought to be friends. I wish you would hold that lock of hair, please; it bothers me to get the last new kink. Can you do it?” She looked up suddenly at Edna, who was curiously studying this girl, who mixed things so indiscriminately, poverty, orphanage, friendlessness, and the last style of dressing the hair.