“I must lie down or I shall fall asleep standing,” she said. Then as she remembered how much she had to be thankful for,—the safe journey, the kindness of everybody from good Mrs. Baker and Paul Ralston to her aunt who had received her so cordially, she went down upon her knees, and, resting her head upon the bed, tried to pray and thought she did. “Our Father,” she began from habit, and then the soft feel of the bed against her tired head and the pressure of exhaustion upon her brain overcame her and she floated off into a dreamy sense of things past and present, the pretty room, the roses and the lilies, the delicious bath, Paul Ralston, Artie and Thede and George and Rob and Mr. Pennington and Heaven, which she had finally entered, losing herself at last in a heavy sleep from which she did not waken until the clock struck six and her aunt came up to see what had happened to her. CHAPTER XVI. THE DAYS WHICH FOLLOWED. Miss Hansford had sat below listening to the splashing of water overhead, hoping Elithe would not get much on the floor, as it might come through into the kitchen, and that she would not leave the soap in the tub when she was through with her bath. She heard her next in the white room moving about, and hoped she would not slat her things around, but hang them in the closet. “I couldn’t bear to see that room all littered up, though Elithe’s litter wouldn’t be so bad as some. I begin to like the girl and feel like a mother already,” she thought, as she listened to the steps overhead until they ceased, and she waited for Elithe to come down. As she did not appear she finally decided that she was resting and she would not disturb her until supper was ready. Never had she taken more pains with a meal than she did that afternoon. The rolls were light; the strawberries and cream were fresh, while the custards in the blue china cups were the crowning of the feast prepared for Elithe. Why didn’t she come down, Miss Hansford wondered as the time slipped by and she began herself to feel the pangs of hunger.