that never left the girl's mind. She lost
the power to sleep or eat, a restless  held her. She spent her
days, the long, vapid, sickening days, gazing down the road he must
come, the nights in wakeful, frightened thought. The one event of the
twenty-four dreary hours, was the coming home of the elder Miss Waddle
from Chelsea; the one  that upheld her, the  that each day she
would bring her a letter. All this long, bleak day she had lived on that
one feverish , and now she was here, and there was none--none!

The moments wore on. She lay there prostrate, crushed, never moving or
lifting her head. Miss Waddle the elder bent over her with tears of
 and wordnetanger in her kindly, spinster eyes.

"Dear child," she said, "don't take on like this. Who knows what
to-morrow may bring? And if it brings nothing, there isn't a man on
earth worth breaking your poor  for, as you're doing. They're a set
of selfish, heartless wretches, every one--every blessed one!" said the
elder Miss Waddle, vindictively; "so come along and have a cup of tea,
and