You ought to be ashamed of yourself." As she spoke Sylvia struck a match and lit the lamp.

Rose buried her face deeper in the bed.
"I don't want any lamp," she gasped.
"Don't want any lamp?
Ain't you ashamed of yourself?
I should think you were a baby.

You are going to have a lamp, and you are going to sit up and eat your supper." Sylvia drew down the white shades carefully, then she bent over the girl.

She did not touch her, but she was quivering with maternal passion which seemed to embrace without any physical contact.

"Now, what is the matter ?" she said.
"Nothing." "What is the matter ?" repeated Sylvia, insistently.
Suddenly Rose sat up.