“I don’t know whether she’d want anybody to come up while she’s dressing or not,” said Aunt Maria.

“I don’t believe she’d mind me,” said Lily, pleadingly.  “Would you mind calling up and asking her, please, Miss Stillman?”

“Well,” said Aunt Maria.

She actually closed the door and left Lily standing in the bitter wind while she spoke to Maria.  Lily heard her faintly calling.

“Say, Maria, that Merrill girl is at the door, and wants to know if she can come a minute.  She’s got something she wants to tell you.”

Then Aunt Maria opened the door.  “I suppose you can go up,” she said, ungraciously.  The radiance in Lily’s face filled her with hostility, she did not know why.

“Oh, thank you!” cried Lily; and ran into the house and up the stairs to Maria’s room.

Maria was standing before the glass brushing her hair, which was very long, and bright, and thick.  Lily went straight to her and threw her arms around her and began to weep.  Maria pushed her aside gently.

“Why, what is the matter, Lily?” she asked.  “Excuse me, but I must finish my hair; I have no more than time.  What is the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter,” sobbed Lily, “only—­Oh Maria I am so happy!  I have not slept a wink all night I was so happy.  Oh, you don’t know how happy I am!”

Maria’s face turned deadly white.  She swept the glowing lengths of her hair over it with a deft movement.  “Why, what makes you so happy?” she asked, coolly.

“Oh, Maria, he was in earnest, he was.  I am engaged to George.”

Maria brushed her hair.  “I am very glad,” she said, in an unfaltering voice.  She bent her head, bringing her hair entirely over her face, preparatory to making a great knot on the top of her head.  “I hope you will be very happy.”

“Happy!” said Lily.  “Oh, Maria, you don’t know how happy I am!”

“I am very glad,” Maria repeated, brushing her hair smoothly from her neck.  “He seems like a very fine young man.  I think you have made a wise choice, Lily.”

Lily flung herself into a chair and looked at Maria.  “Oh, Maria dear,” she said, “I wish you were as happy as I. I hope you will be some time.”

Maria laughed, and there was not a trace of bitterness in her laugh.  “Well, I shall not cry if I never am,” she said.  “What a little goose you are, Lily, to cry!” She swept the hair back from her face, and her color had returned.  She looked squarely at Lily’s reflection in the glass, and there was an odd, triumphant expression on her face.

“I can’t help it,” sobbed Lily.  “I always have cried when I was very happy, and I never was so happy as this; and last night, before he—­before George asked me—­I was so miserable I wanted to die.  Only think, Maria, mother is going to marry Dr. Ellridge, and he and his three horrid girls are coming to live at our house.  I don’t know how I could have stood it if George hadn’t asked me.  Now I shall live with him in his house, of course, with his mother.  I have always liked George’s mother.  I think she is sweet.”