aps she could not help it. She could scrape her shoes
at the door, and come in clean.

"You know a darned lot about it, I suppose!" were the last words of
defiance; softened down, however, you perceive, to that which can be
printed.

Desire was pale, with a dry sob in her throat, when the woman had
gone and Luclarion turned round.

"The angels in heaven know; why shouldn't you?" said Luclarion.
"That's what we've got to help."

A child came in afterwards, alone; with an actual clean spot in the
middle of her face, where a ginger-nut or an acid drop might go in.
This was a regular customer of a week past. The week had made that
clean spot; with a few pleasant and encouraging hints from
Luclarion, administered along with the gingerbread.

Now it was Hazel's turn.

The round mouth and eyes, with expectation in them, were like a spot
of green to Hazel, feeling with her witch-wand for a human spring.
But she spoke to Desire, looking cunningly at the child.

"Let us go back and swing," she said.

The girl's head pricked itself up quickly.

"We've got a swing up-stairs," said Hazel, passing close by, and
just pausing. "A new one. I guess it goes pretty high; and it looks
out of top windows. Wouldn't you like to come and see?"

The child lived down in a cellar.

"Take up some ginger-nuts, and eat them there," said Luclarion to
Hazel.

If it had not been for that, the girl would have hung back, afraid
of losing her shop treat.

Hazel knew better than to hold out her hand, at this first essay;
she would do that fast enough when the time came. She only walked
on, through the sitting-room, to the stairs.

The girl peeped, and followed.

Clean stairs. She had never trodden such before. Everything was
strange and clean here, as she had never seen anything before in all
her life, except the sky and the white clouds overhead. Heaven be
thanked that they are held over us, spotless, always!

Hazel heard the little feet, shuffling, in horrible, distorted
shoes, after her, over the steps; pausing, coming slowly but still
starting again, and coming on.

Up on the high landing, under the skylight, she opened the door wide
into the dormer-windowed room, and went in; she and Desire, neither
of them looking round.

Hazel got into the swing. Desire pushed; after three vibrations they
saw the ragged figure standing in the doorway, watching, turning its
head from side to side as the swing passed.

"Almost!" cried Hazel,