the view, was
not near enough to exclude all light. Another and closer scrutiny of the
room did not alter the first impression. To the advantages of light were
added those of dainty furnishing and an exceptionally pleasing color
scheme. There was no richness anywhere, but an attractive harmony
which gave one an instantaneous feeling of home. From the little
brass bedstead curtained with cretonne, to the tiny desk filled with
everything needful for immediate use, I saw evidences of the most
careful housekeeping, and was vainly asking myself what could have
come into Mrs. Packard's life to disturb so wholesome a nature, when my
attention was arrested by a picture hanging at the right of the window
overlooking the next house.

It gave promise of being a most interesting sketch, and I crossed over
to examine it; but instead of doing so, found my eyes drawn toward
something more vital than any picture and twice as enchaining.

It was a face, the face of an old woman staring down at me from a
semicircular opening in the gable of the adjoining house. An ordinary
circumstance in itself, but made extraordinary by the fixity of her
gaze, which was leveled straight on mine, and the uncommon expression
of breathless eagerness which gave force to her otherwise commonplace
features. So remarkable was this expression and so apparently was it
directed against myself, that I felt like throwing up my window and
asking the poor old creature what I could do for her. But her extreme
immobility deterred me. For all the intentness of her look there was
no invitation in it warranting such an advance on my part. She simply
stared down at me in unbroken anxiety, nor, though I watched her for
some minutes with an intensity equal to her own, did I detect any change
either in her attitude or expression.

"Odd," thought I, and tested her with a friendly bow. The demonstration
failed to produce the least impression. "A most uncanny neighbor," was
my mental comment on finally turning away. Truly I was surrounded by
mysteries, but fortunately this was one with which I had no immediate
concern. It did not take me long to put away my few belongings and
prepare for dinner. When quite ready, I sat down to write a letter. This
completed, I turned to go downstairs. But before leaving the room I cast
another look up at my neighbor's attic window. The old woman was still
there. As our glances met I experienced a thrill which was hardly one of
sympathy, yet