"Rose and I have some things to talk over, mother," she said.
"Nothing, I guess, that your mother cannot hear," returned Mrs.
Ayres, with forced pleasantry.

She sat down, and Lucy flung herself petulantly upon the bed, where she had evidently been lying, but seemingly not reposing, for it was much rumpled, and the pillows gave evidence of the restless tossing of a weary head.

Lucy herself had a curiously rumpled aspect, though she was not exactly untidy.

Her soft, white, lace-trimmed wrapper carelessly tied with blue ribbons was wrinkled, her little slippers were unbuttoned.

Her mass of soft hair was half over her shoulders.