furniture absolutely required. Its walls were of unplaned plank
occasionally failing to meet, and the only covering to the floor was a
dingy strip of rag-carpet. The bed was a cot, shapeless, and propped
up on one side by the iron leg of some veranda bench, while the open
window looked out into the street. There was a bolt, not appearing
particularly secure, with which Miss Donovan immediately locked the
door before venturing across to take a glance without.

The view was hardly reassuring, as the single street was still the
scene of pandemonium, the saloon and dance-hall almost directly
opposite, operating in full blast. Oaths and ribald laughter assailed
her ears, while directly beneath, although out of her view, a quarrel
threatened to lead to serious consequences. She pulled down the window
to shut out these sounds, but the room became so stuffy and hot without
even this slight ventilation, as to oblige her opening it again. As a
compromise she hauled down the curtain, a green paper affair, torn
badly, and which occasionally flapped in the wind with a startling
noise.

The bed-clothing, once turned back and inspected, was of a nature to
prevent the girl from disrobing; but finally she lay down, seeking such
rest as was possible, after turning the flickering flames of the lamp
as low as she dared, and then finally blowing it out altogether. The
glare from the street crept in through the cracks in the curtain,
playing in fantastic light and shadow across ceiling and wall, while
the infernal din never ceased.

Sleep was not to be attained, although she closed her eyes and muffled
her ears. The misshapen bed brought no comfort to her tired body, for
no matter how she adjusted herself, the result was practically the