She stirred up the fire a little, holding back her shiny black silk skirt carefully.

Charlotte stood leaning against the shelf, looking moodily down at the fire.
"I wouldn't feel bad if I was you, Charlotte," Sylvia ventured, timidly.
"I guess we'd better go to bed pretty soon," returned Charlotte.

"It must be late." "Had you rather sleep with me, Charlotte, or sleep in the spare chamber ?" "I guess I'll go in the spare chamber." "Well, I'll get you a night-gown." Both of their faces were sober, but perfectly staid.

They bade each other good-night without a quiver; but Charlotte, after she had said her dutiful and unquestioning prayer, and lay folded in Sylvia's ruffled night-gown in the best bed, shook with great sobs.

"Poor Barney!" she kept muttering.