Finally she sat down in Miss Farrel's rocker; she crossed her knees and viewed with delight the fleecy fall of lace to the floor. Then she fell to dreaming, and her dreams were good. In that gown of fashion she dreamed the dreams of the life to which the women of her race were born. She dreamed of her good housewifery; she dreamed of the butter she would make; she dreamed of her husband coming home to meals all ready and well cooked. She dreamed, underneath the other dreams, of children coming home. She had no realization of the time she sat there. At last she started and turned white. She had heard a key turn in the lock. Then Miss Farrel entered the room--Miss Eliza Farrel, magnificent in pale gray, with a hat trimmed with roses crowning her blond head. Hannah cowered. She tried to speak, but only succeeded in making a sound as if she were deaf and dumb. Then Miss Farrel spoke. There was a weary astonishment and amusement in her tone, but nothing whatever disturbed or harsh. "Oh, is it you, Hannah?" she said. Hannah murmured something unintelligible. Miss Farrel went on, sweetly: "So you thought you would try on my lace gown, Hannah?" she said. "It fits you very well. I see your hands are clean. I am glad of that. Now please take it off and put on your own dress." Hannah stood up. She was abject. "There is nothing for you to be afraid of," said Miss Farrel. "Only take off the gown and put on your own, or I am afraid Miss Hart--" Miss Hart's name acted like a terrible stimulus. Hannah unfastened the lace gown with fingers trembling with haste. She stepped out of the shimmering circle which it made; she was in her own costume in an incredibly short space of time, and the lace gown was in its accustomed place in the closet. Then suddenly Miss Hart opened the door. "I thought I saw a light," said she. She looked from one to the other. "It is after eleven o'clock," she said, further. "Yes," said Miss Farrel, sweetly. "I have been working. I had to look over some exercises. I think I am not quite well. Have you any digitalis in the house, Miss Hart? Hannah here does not know. I was sorry to disturb her, and she does not know. I have an irritable heart, and digitalis helps it." "No, I have not got any digitalis," replied Miss Hart, shortly. She gave the hard sound to the _g_, and she looked suspiciously at both women. However, Miss Farrel was undoubtedly pale, and Miss Hart's face relaxed. "Go back to your room," she said to Hannah. "You won't be fit for a thing to-morrow." Then she said to Miss Farrel: "I don't know what you mean by digitalis. I haven't got any, but I'll mix you up some hot essence of peppermint, and that's the best thing I know of for anything." "Thank you," said Miss Farrel. She had sank into a chair, and had her hand over her heart.