I went through the house to the front entry, thinking I would go out
the front door--the side one was dripping as if it were under a
waterfall. Just as I reached it I heard a die-away voice from the
front chamber say, "My good woman."

I did not dream that I was addressed, never having been called by
that name, though always having hoped that I was a good woman.

So I kept right on. Then I heard a despairing sigh, and the voice
said, "You speak to her, Harriet."

Then I heard another voice, very sweet and a little timid, "Will you
please step upstairs? Mamma wishes to speak to you."

I began to wonder if they were talking to me. I looked up, and
there discovered a pretty, innocent, rosy little face, peering over
the balustrade at the head of the stairs. "Will you please step
upstairs?" said she again, in the same sweet tones. "Mamma wishes
to speak to you."

I have a little weakness of the heart, and do not like to climb
stairs more than I am positively obliged to; it always puts me so out
of breath. I sleep downstairs on that account. I looked at Caroline's
front stairs, which are rather steep, with some hesitation. I felt
shaken, too, on account of the alarm of fire. Then I heard the first
voice again with a sort of languishing authority: "My good woman,
will you be so kind as to step upstairs immediately?"

I went upstairs. The girl who had spoken to me--I found afterward