After her father had gone into his room, and the house had long been silent, she got up quietly, opened her door softly, and crept across the hall to the spare room, which Aunt Maria had occupied ever since she had been there.

She listened, and heard a soft sob.

Then she turned the knob of the door softly.
"Who is it ?" Aunt Maria called out, sharply.
Maria was afraid that her father would hear.
"It's only me, Aunt Maria," she replied.

Then she also gave a little sob.
"What's the matter ?" Maria groped her way across the room to her aunt's bed.

"Oh, Aunt Maria, who is it ?" she sobbed, softly.
Aunt Maria did what she had never done before: she reached out her arms and gathered the bewildered little girl close, in an embrace of genuine affection and pity.