She rose from her knees, put out the light, stood again at the window.

In after years she always looked back upon that hour as the one that definitely marked the end of girlhood, of the thoughts and beliefs which go with the sheltered life, and the beginning of womanhood, of self-reliance and of the hardiness--so near akin to hardness--the hardiness that must come into the character before a man or a woman is fit to give and take in the combat of life.
The bed was coarse, but white and clean.

She fell asleep instantly and did not awaken until, after the vague, gradually louder sound of hammering on the door, she heard a female voice warning her that breakfast was "put nigh over an' done." She got up, partly drew on one stocking, then without taking it off tumbled over against the pillow and was asleep.

When she came to herself again, the lay of the shadows told her it must be after twelve o'clock.

She dressed, packed her serge suit in the bag with the sailor hat, smoothed out the pink calico slip and put it on.