In her room, in the front of the house, Laura was partly undressed when Mrs. Cressler knocked at her door. The latter had put on a wrapper of flowered silk, and her hair was bound in invisible nets.

“I brought you a dressing-gown,” she said. She hung it over the foot of the bed, and sat down on the bed itself, watching Laura, who stood before the glass of the bureau, her head bent upon her breast, her hands busy with the back of her hair. From time to time the hairpins clicked as she laid them down in the silver trays close at hand. Then putting her chin in the air, she shook her head, and the great braids, unlooped, fell to her waist.

“What pretty hair you have, child,” murmured Mrs. Cressler. She was settling herself for a long talk with her protégé. She had much to tell, but now that they had the whole night before them, could afford to take her time.