The two girls soon followed her example. Hastily undressing themselves
in the chilly room, they lay down side by side, to enjoy the blended
warmth and rest, and the tender, delicious interchanges of confidence
which precede sleep. Though so different in every fibre of their
natures, they loved each other with a very true and tender affection.

"Martha," said Sally, after an interval of silence, "did you think I
_made_ the Bible turn at G?"

"I think you thought it would turn, and therefore it did. Gilbert Potter
was in your mind, of course."

"And not in yours, Martha?"

"If any man was seriously in my mind, Sally, do you think I would take
the Bible and the door-key in order to find out his name?"

Sally was not adroit in speech: she felt that her question had not been
answered, but was unable to see precisely how the answer had been
evaded.

"I certainly was beginning to think that you liked Gilbert," she said.

"So I do. Anybody may know that who cares for the information." And
Martha laughed cheerfully.

"Would you say so to Gilbert himself?" Sally timidly suggested.

"Certainly; but why should he ask? I like a great many young men."