There was but one question.  Could Ann keep within hailing distance of one’s imagination?  Did Ann have it in her to live up to the things one wished to believe about her?  Was she capable of taking unto herself the past and temperament with which one would graciously endow her?  Katie’s sense of justice forced from her the admission that it was expecting a good deal of Ann.  She could see that nothing would be more bootless than thrusting traditions upon people who would not know what to do with them.  But something about Ann encouraged one to believe she could fit into a background prepared for her.  And if she could—­would—!  The prospect lured—­excited.  It was as inexplicably intoxicating as a grimace at the preacher—­a wink at the professor.  It seemed to be saucily tweaking the ear of that insufferably solemn Things-as-They-Are goddess.

There was in her eyes the light of battle when Nora finally came to tell her that Miss Forrest was awake.

But it changed to another light at sight of the girl sitting up in bed so bewilderedly, turning upon her eyes which seemed to say—­“And what are you going to do with me now?”

Fighting down the lump in her throat Katie seized briskly upon that look of inquiry.  “What she needs now,” she decided, “is not tears, but a high hand.”

“Next thing on the program,” she began, buoyantly raising the shades and throwing the windows wide, “is air.  You’re a good patient, for you do as you’re told.  It’s been a fine sleep, hasn’t it?  And now I mean to get you into some clothes and take you out for a drive.”

The girl shrank down in the pillows, pulling the covers clear to her chin, as if to shut herself in.  She did not speak, but shook her head.

But Katie rode right over that look of pain and fear in her eyes, refusing to emphasize it by recognition.

She left the room and returned after a moment with a white flannel suit which she spread out on the bed.  “This is not a bad looking suit, is it?  Your dress is scarcely warm enough for driving, so I want you to wear this.  I told Nora that your luggage was lost.  It may be just as well for you to know, from time to time, what I’m telling about you.  I have an idea this suit will be very becoming to you.  It came from Paris.  I presume I’m rather foolish about things from Paris, but they always seem to me to have brought a little life and gayety along.  There’s a dear little white hat and stunning automobile veil goes with this suit.  I can scarcely wait to see how pretty you’re going to look in it all.”

For answer the girl turned to the wall, hid her face in the pillows, and sobbed.

Kate laid a hand upon her hair—­soft, fine brown hair with tempting little waves and gleams in it.  There came to her a hideous vision of how that hair might have looked by this time had she not—­by the merest chance—­

It gave her a feeling of proprietary tenderness for the girl.  It seemed indeed that this life was in her hands—­for was it not her hands had kept it a life?