dress or my hand--as I stood byher. SHE knew. No one need tell me she didn't."
But this was an error. The child was conscious only of a tender,wistful feeling, which caused her to look at the affectionatehealthy young woman who had always been good to her and whom shebelonged to, though she remotely wondered why--the sametenderness impelled her to touch her arm, hand and simple dress,and folding her arms round her neck to kiss her softly. It was anexpression of gratitude for all the rough casual affection of thepast. All her life had been spent at her side--all her life onearth had sprung from her.
When she went up-stairs to the Closed Room the next day she toldher mother she was going before she left the kitchen.
"I'm going up to play with the little girl, mother," she said."You don't mind, do you?"
Jane had had an evening of comfortable domestic gossip and jokingwith Jem, had slept, slept soundly and eaten a hearty breakfast.Life had reassumed its wholly normal aspect. The sun was shininghot and bright and she was preparing to scrub the kitchen floor.She believed that the child was mistaken as to the room she hadbeen in.
"That's all right," she said, turning the hot water spigot overthe sink so that the boiling water poured forth at full flow intoher pail, with clouds of steam. "But when I've done my scrubbingI'm comin' up to see if it IS the Closed Room you play in. If itis, I guess you'd better play somewhere else--and I want to findout how you get that door open. Run along if you like."
Judith came back to her from the door. "Yes," she said, "come andsee. But if she is there," putting her hand on Jane's hip gently,"you mustn't touch her."
Jane turned off the hot water and stared.
"Her!"
"The little girl who plays. _I_ never touch her. She says I mustnot."
Jane lifted her pail from the sink, laughing outright.
"Well, that sounds as if she was a pretty airy young one," shesaid. "I guess you're a queer little pair. Run on. I must get atthis floor."
Judith ran up the three flights of stairs lightly. She was gladshe had told her mother, though she wondered vaguely why it hadnever seemed right to tell her until last night, and last nightit had seemed not so much necessary as imperative. Something hadobliged her to tell her. The time had come when she must know.The Closed Room door had always shut itself gently after Judithhad passed through it, and yesterday, when her mother passing bychance, had tried the handle so vigorously, the two childreninside the room had stood still gazing at each other, but neitherhad spoken and Judith had not thought of speaking. She was out ofthe realm of speech, and without any sense of amazement was awarethat she was out of it. People with voices and words were in thatfaraway world below.
The playing to-day was even a lovelier, happier thing than it hadever been before. It seemed to become each minute a thing fartherand farther away from the world in the streets where the ElevatedRailroad went humming past like a monster bee. And with the senseof greater distance came a sense of greater lightness andfreedom. Judith found that she was moving about the room and thelittle roof garden almost exactly as she had moved in the wakingdreams where she saw Aunt Hester--almost as if she was floatingand every movement was ecstasy. Once as she thought this shelooked at her playmate, and the child smiled and answered her asshe always did before she spoke.
"Yes," she said; "I know her. She will come. She sent me."
She had this day a special plan with regard to the arranging ofthe Closed Room. She wanted all the things in it--the doll--thechairs--the toys--the little table and its service to be placedin certain positions. She told Judith what to do. Various toyswere put here or there--the little table was set with certaindishes in a particular part of the room. A book was left lyingupon the sofa cushion, the large doll was put into a chair nearthe sofa, with a smaller doll in its arms, on the small writingdesk a letter, which Judith found in a drawer--a half-writtenletter--was laid, the pen was left in the ink. It was a strangegame to play, but somehow Judith felt it was very pretty. When itwas all done--and there were many curious things to do--theClosed Room looked quite different from the cold, dim, orderlyplace the door had first opened upon. Then it had looked as ifeverything had been swept up and set away and covered and donewith forever--as if the life in it had ended and would neverbegin again. Now it looked as if some child who had lived in itand loved and played with each of its belongings, had juststepped out from her play--to some other room quite near--quitenear. The big doll in its chair seemed waiting--even listening toher voice as it came from the room she had run into.
The child with the burnished hair stood and looked at it with herdelicious smile.
"That is how it looked," she said. "They came and hid and coveredeverything--as if I had gone--as if I was Nowhere. I want her toknow I come here. I couldn't do it myself. You could do it forme. Go and bring some roses."
The little garden was a wonder of strange beauty with its massesof flowers. Judith brought some roses from the bush her playmatepointed out. She put them into a light bowl which was like abubble of thin, clear glass and stood on the desk near theletter.
"If they would look like that," the little girl said, "she wouldsee. But no one sees them like that--when the Life goes away withme."
After that the game was finished and they went out on the roofgarden and stood and looked up into the blue above their heads.How blue--how blue--how clear--how near and real! And how far andunreal the streets and sounds below. The two children stood andlooked up and laughed at the sweetness of it.
Then Judith felt a little tired.
"I will go and lie down on the sofa," she said.
"Yes," the little girl answered. "It's time for you to go tosleep."
They went into the Closed Room and Judith lay down. As she didso, she saw that the door was standing open and remembered thather mother was coming up to see her and her playmate.
The little girl sat down by her. She put out her pretty fine handand touched Judith for the first time. She laid her littlepointed fingers on her forehead and Judith fell asleep.
It seemed only a few minutes before she wakened again. The littlegirl was standing by her.
"Come," she said.
They went out together onto the roof among the flowers, but astrange--a beautiful thing had happened. The garden did not endat the parapet and the streets and houses were not below. Thelittle garden ended in a broad green pathway--green with thick,soft grass and moss covered with trembling white and bluebell-like flowers. Trees--fresh leaved as if spring had justawakened them--shaded it and made it look smiling fair. Greatwhite blossoms tossed on their branches and Judith felt that thescent in the air came from them. She forgot the city was below,because it was millions and millions of miles away, and this waswhere it was right to be. There was no mistake. This was real.All the rest was unreal--and millions and millions of miles away.
They held each other's slim-pointed hands and stepped out uponthe broad, fresh green pathway. There was no boundary or end toits beauty, and it was only another real thing that comingtowards them from under the white, flowering trees was AuntHester.
In the basement Jane Foster was absorbed in her labours, whichwere things whose accustomedness provided her with pleasure. Shewas fond of her scrubbing, she enjoyed the washing of her dishes,she definitely entertained herself with the splash and soapy foamof her washtubs and the hearty smack and swing of her ironing. Inthe days when she had served at the ribbon counter in adepartment store, she had not found life as agreeable as she hadfound it since the hours which were not spent at her own privatesewing machine were given to hearty domestic duties providingcleanliness, savoury meals, and comfort for Jem.
She was so busy this particular afternoon that it was inevitablethat she should forget all else but the work which kept her onher knees scrubbing floors or on a chair polishing windows, andafterwards hanging before them bits of clean, spotted muslin.
She was doing this last when her attention being attracted bywheels in the street stopping before the door, she looked out tosee a carriag
e door open and a young woman, dressed in exceptionallydeep mourning garb, step onto the pavement, cross it, and ascend thefront steps.
"Who's she?" Jane exclaimed disturbedly. "Does she think thehouse is to let because it's shut?" A ring at the front door bellcalled her down from her chair. Among the duties of a caretakeris naturally included that of answering the questions ofvisitors. She turned down her sleeves, put on a fresh apron, andran up-stairs to the entrance hall.
When she opened the door, the tall, young woman in black steppedinside as if there were no reason for her remaining even for amoment on the threshold.
"I am Mrs. Haldon," she said. "I suppose you are the caretaker?"
Haldon was the name of the people to whom the house belonged. JemFoster had heard only the vaguest things of
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