after the departure of her lover, and all day Monday wandered aimlessly about the house, unable to rest or to interest herself in anything. All that seemed worth living for had passed out of her life, and she did not care very much what happened now. A feeling of lethargy seemed to be crushing all the vivacious spirit out of her young life; it was noticeable to her mother, but the latter made no comment, knowing that if the trouble did not disappear her daughter would tell her all about it before many days.
When she alighted from the train at Lewistown, after an hour's ride, the agent was astonished to see the pale, listless girl enter his office and take her place at the telegraph table. Usually so winsome and jolly, the contrast could not go unnoticed. When ready to leave for the night he spoke to her kindly, saying she looked unwell, and added:
"If you desire it, Miss Morris, I shall be glad to work tonight and allow you to return home on number sixteen. You look as if you needed rest."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Tomlinson, but I could not think of allowing you to do such a thing, after working all day. I do need rest—I feel that very plainly. Not being able to sleep any last night or today, I am naturally very tired now. But I will not permit you to work. Morning will soon come, with a good book to pass away the lonesome hours. Good night."
