wood and wait--and listen. Thinking this and knowing that it must
be so, she fell--at last--asleep.



PART TWO


Judith climbed the basement stairs rather slowly. Her mother was
busy rearranging the disorder the hastily departing servants had
left. Their departure had indeed been made in sufficient haste to
have left behind the air of its having been flight. There was a
great deal to be done, and Jane Foster, moving about with broom
and pail and scrubbing brushes, did not dislike the excitement of
the work before her. Judith's certainty that she would not be
missed made all clear before her. If her absence was observed her
mother would realize that the whole house lay open to her and
that she was an undisturbing element wheresoever she was led
either by her fancy or by circumstance. If she went into the
parlours she would probably sit and talk to herself or play
quietly with her shabby doll. In any case she would be finding
pleasure of her own and would touch nothing which could be
harmed.

When the child found herself in the entrance hall she stopped a
few moments to look about her. The stillness seemed to hold her
and she paused to hear and feel it. In leaving the basement
behind, she had left the movement of living behind also. No one
was alive upon this floor--nor upon the next--nor the next. It
was as if one had entered a new world--a world in which something