"Don't you turn out the lamp, or lock the door, or _any_thing?" asked
the old man, now.

"Oh no, we won't be gone long. It's not more than half a mile to the
Powers'. There's not a soul in the valley who would think of going in
and rummaging . . . let alone taking anything. And we never have tramps.
We are too far from the railroad," said Marise.

"_Well!_" exclaimed the other, looking back as they went down the path,
"it certainly looks queer to me, the door standing open into this black
night, and the light shining in that empty room."

Elly looked back too. She slipped her hand out of her mother's and ran
towards the house. She darted up to the door and stood there, poised
like a swallow, looking in.

"What does she want?" asked Mr. Welles with the naïve conviction of the
elderly bachelor that the mother must know everything in the child's
mind.

"I don't know," admitted Marise. "Nobody ever knows exactly what is in
Elly's mind when she does things. Maybe she is looking to see that her
kitten is safe."

The little girl ran back to them.

"What did you want, dear?" asked her mother.

"I just wanted to look at it again," said Elly. "I _like_ it, like that,