“Indeed I will, and I shall slip away very soon and go back to her, although I am sure she does not really need me.  I am glad for her sake, however, that tomorrow will be Saturday.”

“May I tell my sister what you have told me?” Dr. Stanley inquired.  “I know it would greatly relieve her mind, for she is much disturbed because Miss Minturn cannot be found.”

“Yes; I am sure Kathie would be willing, under the circumstances.  I know her only fear was that she might be found before her work was done,” Miss Reynolds said, after considering a moment.  “I think,” she added, “she would prefer not to have Dorothy told anything, except, perhaps, that her dress was injured.”

“Yes; it would mar her pleasure,” her companion observed; “in fact, we have said nothing about the contretemps to anyone but the faculty as yet, fearing it might spoil the evening for many.  We cannot be too thankful that it was no worse; if it had occurred before that last tableau was over, there is no telling how serious it might have been, with so many thin dresses and all those paper flowers,” he concluded, gravely, then bowed himself away.

After making the round of the room, Miss Reynolds sought Sadie and told her that as Katherine was not feeling quite herself, she would spend the night with her; then she stole away and went back to her charge.

Katherine aroused when she entered the room, but showed no signs of present suffering.

“How is Dorothy?” she questioned, eagerly.

“She was not harmed in the least, and ’went to bed the happiest girl in the building,’ so I was told.”

Katherine heaved a sigh of relief.

She asked for a glass of water and drank thirstily when it was brought to her.

“Can I do anything more for you, Kathie?” her friend inquired.

The girl’s eyes wandered to the books on her desk.

“Shall I read?—­what?”

“The twenty-third psalm, please.”

Miss Reynolds found and read it as given and interpreted in “Science and Health”:  “Divine Love is my Shepherd; I shall not want.  Love maketh me to lie down in green pastures; Love leadeth me beside still waters;” [Footnote:  “Science and Health,” page 16.] and so on to the end.

Then she turned to her own marker and read for herself a while.

The room was very quiet, for the revelers below were so far away they could not be heard.  Only a strain of music from the orchestra was now and then wafted on a gentle breeze to them through an open window.

Suddenly a deep sigh from the bed fell upon the reader’s ear.  She started and turned toward her charge.

“‘Love’—­’still waters,’” murmured Katherine, then turned like a tired child on her pillow and was again locked in slumber.

Softly, Miss Reynolds laid aside her festal attire, made a nest for herself on her roomy couch and, to the faintly flowing rhythm of “The Beautiful Blue Danube,” soon lost herself in dreamland, never waking until the brilliant sun of a glorious June morning flooded her room and warned her that a new day had begun.