Flossy went to the window and stood looking out into the starless night.
The pain in her heart deepened with every moment.

"If there was only some one to ask, some one to say a word to me," she
sighed to herself. "It seems as though I could never go to sleep with
this feeling clinging to me. I wonder what can be the matter? Perhaps I
am sick and am going to die. It feels almost like that, and I am not fit
to die--I am afraid. I wonder if Ruth Erskine is afraid to die? I have
almost a mind to ask her. I wonder if she ever prays? People who are not
afraid of death are always those who pray. Perhaps she will to-night. I
feel as though I wanted to pray: I think if I only knew how it would be
just the thing to do. If she kneels down I mean to go and kneel beside
her."

These were some of the thoughts that whirled through her brain as she
stood with her nose pressed to the glass. But Ruth did not pray. She
went around with the composed air of one who was at peace with all the
world; and when her elaborate preparations for rest were concluded she
laid her head on her pillow without one thought of prayer.

"Why in the name of sense don't you come to bed?" she presently asked,
surveying with curious glance the quiet little creature whose face was
hidden from her, and who was acting entirely out of accordance with
anything she had ever seen in her before. "What can you possibly find to
keep you gazing out of that window? It can't be called star-gazing, for
to my certain knowledge there isn't a single star visible; in fact, I
should say nothing could be visible but the darkness."

For a minute Flossy made no answer. She did not move nor turn her head;