After that there was silence between the two, and possibly also a
little coldness. Letitia knitted and her great-great-grandmother
knitted. Letitia also thought shrewdly. She had very little doubt
that the key which she had just been shown might unlock another
little green door, and admit her to her past which was her ancestors'
future, but she realized that it was beyond her courage, even if she
had the opportunity, to take it, and use it provided she could find
the second little green door. She had been so frightfully punished
for disobedience, that she dared not risk a second attempt. Then too
how could she tell whether the second little green door would admit
her to her grandmother's cheese-room? She felt so dizzy over what had
happened, that she was not even sure that two and two made four, and
b-o-y spelt boy, although she had mastered such easy facts long ago.
Letitia had arrived at the point wherein she did not know what she
knew, and therefore, she resolved that she would not use that other
little key with the green ribbon, if she had a chance. She shivered
at the possibilities which it might involve. Suppose she were to open
the second little green door and be precipitated head first into a
future far from the one which had merged into the past, and be more
at a loss than now. She might find the conditions of life even more
impossible than in her great-great-great-grandfather's log cabin with
hostile Indians about. It might, as her great-great-grandmother
Letitia had said, be much worse. So she knitted soberly, and the
other Letitia knitted, and neither spoke, and there was not a sound
except the crackling of the hearth fire and bubbling of water in a
large iron pot which swung from the crane, until suddenly there was a
frantic pounding at the door, and a sound as if somebody were hurled
against it.

Both Letitias started to their feet. Letitia turned pale, but her