Even then she could not grasp what had happened, and pausing
in the road she looked back at the house, half hoping that Mrs.
Hochmuller's once detested face might appear at one of the grimy
windows.

She was roused by an icy wind that seemed to spring up
suddenly from the desolate scene, piercing her thin dress like
gauze; and turning away she began to retrace her steps. She
thought of enquiring for Mrs. Hochmuller at some of the
neighbouring houses, but their look was so unfriendly that she
walked on without making up her mind at which door to ring. When
she reached the horse-car terminus a car was just moving off toward
Hoboken, and for nearly an hour she had to wait on the corner in
the bitter wind. Her hands and feet were stiff with cold when the
car at length loomed into sight again, and she thought of stopping
somewhere on the way to the ferry for a cup of tea; but before the
region of lunch-rooms was reached she had grown so sick and dizzy
that the thought of food was repulsive. At length she found
herself on the ferry-boat, in the soothing stuffiness of the
crowded cabin; then came another interval of shivering on a
street-corner, another long jolting journey in a "cross-town" car that
smelt of damp straw and tobacco; and lastly, in the cold spring dusk,
she unlocked her door and groped her way through the shop to her
fireless bedroom.

The next morning Mrs. Hawkins, dropping in to hear the result
of the trip, found Ann Eliza sitting behind the counter wrapped in
an old shawl.

"Why, Miss Bunner, you're sick! You must have fever--your