those balls of wool as they spun to the tune of the woman's misery. They
advanced and retired, like dancers, touching hands when they met, then
whirling away in opposite directions again; they side-stepped and
wheeled in a mad riot of joyous color, just as they were about to meet:
they stood for a little facing each other, feinting from side to side,
then were off again, as the music of her misery quickened, in an
embracing whirl, as if married in an ecstasy of colored flame,
many-shaded, yet one; then, at last, just as the tune seemed to have
reached a crescendo of spirit, she dashed her work upon the floor, as
she discovered another blunder, and burst into a fit of passionate
weeping.

Suddenly there was a faint tap at the window, and she raised her head,
staying her breath to listen. Soon she heard it again, just a faint but
very deliberate tap, which convinced her that someone was outside in the
darkness. Softly she stole on tiptoe across the room, so as not to
disturb her sleeping husband, and opening the door quietly, craned
forward and peered into the darkness to discover the cause of the tap.

"It's just me," said a deep voice, in uneasy accents, from the darkness
by the window, and she saw then the form of a man edging nearer the
door.

"And who are you?" she asked a little nervously, but trying to master
the alarm in her voice.

"Do you not ken me?" replied the voice with an attempt to speak as
naturally as possible; yet there was something in the tone that made her
more uneasy.