seen," she said to her husband with cheerful self-gratulation.
"An' her skin's that fine an' thin an' fair you can jest see
through it. She always looks to me as if she was made out of
different stuff from me an' you, Jem. I've always said it."

"She's going to make a corking handsome girl," responded Jem with
a chuckle.

They had been in the house two months, when one afternoon, as she
was slicing potatoes for supper, Jane looked round to see the
child standing at the kitchen doorway, looking with a puzzled
expression at some wilted flowers she held in her hand. Jane's
impression was that she had been coming into the room and had
stopped suddenly to look at what she held.

"What've you got there, Judy?" she asked.

"They're flowers," said Judith, her eyes still more puzzled.

"Where'd you get 'em from? I didn't know you'd been out. I
thought you was up-stairs."

"I was," said Judith quite simply. "In the Closed Room."

Jane Foster's knife dropped into her pan with a splash.

"Well," she gasped.

Judith looked at her with quiet eyes.