So Miss Toland found her, when she came into the room without knocking, a little later.

“Julia,” Miss Toland said sharply, sitting down on the edge of the bed and possessing herself of one of Julia’s limp, cold hands, “Ellie told me you—­she came to the door and heard you!  My child, this won’t do!  You mustn’t make mountains out of molehills.  If Jim Studdiford has had the senseless cruelty to go off to Europe in this fashion, why, he ought to be horsewhipped, that’s all!  But I don’t believe he’ll get any farther than New York, myself; I don’t believe he’ll get that far!” She paused, but Julia was silent.  After a moment the older woman spoke again.  “What does he say in the letter?” she asked.  “One would really like to know just how this delightful piece of work is explained.”

“Aunt Sanna!” Julia said, in a difficult half whisper.  She took Miss Toland’s hand and pressed it against her heart.  Her lips were shut tight, and against the white pillow there was a little negative movement of her head.

“Well, of course you don’t want to talk about it,” Miss Toland said soothingly.  “But was there a quarrel?”

“Oh, no—­no!” Julia said quickly, briefly, with another convulsive pressure of Miss Toland’s hand, and another jerk of her head.  “It was something—­that distressed Jim—­something I couldn’t change,” she added with difficulty.

“H’m!” said the other, and the evidence for both sides was in, as far as Miss Toland was concerned, and the case closed.  She sat beside Julia in the dark for a long time, patting her hand without speaking.  After a while Ellie brought a glass of hot milk, and Julia docilely drank it, and submitted to being put to bed, raising a face as sweet as a child’s for Miss Toland’s good-night kiss, and promising to sleep well.

The pleasant winter sunlight was streaming into the older woman’s room when Julia came in the next morning, although all San Francisco echoed to the sombre constant call of the foghorn, and the air was cool enough to make Miss Toland’s fire delightful.  Julia had Anna with her, a delightful little armful in her tumbled nightwear, and she smiled at the picture of Miss Toland, comfortably enjoying her breakfast in bed.  But it was evident that she had not slept:  deep shadows lay under her blue eyes, and she was very pale.  She put the baby down on the bed with a silver buttonhook and a bracelet, and sat down.

“Sleep any?” Miss Toland asked.

“Yes, I think I did!” Julia said, with an effort at brightness.  She seemed nervous and restless, but showed no tendency to break down.  “I’ve just been talking to Caroline,” she went on.  “I told her that Doctor Studdiford had been called away, and implied that there would be changes.  Then I spoke to Foo Ting at breakfast—­ Mrs. Pope is crazy to get him—­so that will be all right—­”

“Julia—­of course I’ve not read Jim’s letter,” Miss Toland said earnestly, “but aren’t you taking this too much to heart—­aren’t you acting rather quickly?”