The chambermaid was not well, and Molly had been put back in her work a good deal, so that it was late and she was in a hurry. She thumped the water pitchers down hard, slammed the doors, and punched the pillows into shape with extra vigor on this account, but, suddenly, in the midst of making up the, University student’s bed, she came to a sharp halt and straightened up to listen. She was not mistaken. She certainly had heard sounds of distress. They grew clearer now as she went to the hall door, and she quickly located them. They were low, half-suppressed sobs, following quickly upon one another, as though the weeper were in deep distress. After listening, she marched down the hall, and without more ceremony threw open the door of a room. There lay Mamie Williams across the foot of her unmade bed crying bitterly and shaking with sobs. Molly Poppleton was at all times a straightforward maiden, and she believed in coming to the point at once; it was the way she had been brought up. So, without apology for intruding into the young girl’s trouble, she demanded what was the matter.
