The Gridley girl fell into a paroxysm of trembling, such an ague that Madelaine leaned forward and took her hands. Bernice was ill, far worse than Madelaine had expected. Though Bernice made the demand on her as a right, the girl called “Old Mother Hubbard” was broad enough and human enough to make allowance. Bernie was a woman grown physically, perhaps. Otherwise she was a little child, alone in the dark, panic-stricken in a world of savage ignorance and injustice. “There’s nothing to be frightened about, Bernie. Nothing. Get it firmly into your mind and hold it there. We only fear the things we fail to understand. Apparently that’s where you’ve made your blunder. You haven’t understood. The secret of solving any great trouble is to keep calm and poised about it. Remember there’s no human difficulty but what there’s a human solution. Now, then, what we want to determine first is the thing that’s frightening you most. Once cleared away, we can proceed to the elimination of other bothersome things. Just what bothers you worse, dear—physical fear or the reaction of your predicament on your family and future?” “Oh, Madge! You’re so wonderful. I’m sorry for all the mean and spiteful things I said about you! You’re an angel and a——” “Let’s not talk about myself, dear. I’m here to talk about you. If you’ve said or done anything unfair about me in the past, it’s because you didn’t understand. So not understanding, you can’t of course be wholly blamed. Anyway, I believe it’s an obligation all of us have, to give our help so long as people are sent into contact with us who need and deserve it. If there’s any way I can aid you, I’m here to do it. And I want you to feel my friendship before we go any further.” “I guess—I can’t help it,” choked Bernie. Madelaine softly pressed the two cold hands she held. “Now then, dear, let’s have the story. What’s frightening you most?” “Madge! I’ve got to tell you how it happened. I can’t tell you his name. I just can’t! Don’t ask me why I can’t. But—I just can’t——” “I know, dear. You love him. To protect the man who has taken advantage is a feminine atavism since river-drift days, I suppose. I don’t want to know his name. And I only want to know the story as it helps to show what’s bothering you most.” “Madge! It happened this way. One night——” The rain stopped after a time. The clouds rolled away toward the southeast. Stars shone brightly. The roar of the Springfield evening traffic, the honk of motor cars, the purring grind of trolleys, arose to the room where Madelaine had lowered the upper sash of the big window. When Bernice completed her ragged story, she was leaning forward, weeping intermittently. Madelaine was a silhouette in the semi-dark. She rocked slowly.