own room, and flew rather than ran along the dimly-lighted passage, at
the end of which a door led into the great saloon. She opened the door.
All was quite dark. It was impossible to fly or run across the great
saloon! Even in daylight this would have been a difficult matter.
Griselda _felt_ her way as best she could, past the Chinese cabinet and
the pot-pourri jar, till she got to the ante-room door. It was open, and
now, knowing her way better, she hurried in. But what was the use? All
was silent, save the tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the corner. Oh, if
_only_ the cuckoo would come out and call the hour as usual, what a
weight would be lifted off Griselda's heart!

She had no idea what o'clock it was. It might be close to the hour, or
it might be just past it. She stood listening for a few minutes, then
hearing Miss Grizzel's voice in the distance, she felt that she dared
not stay any longer, and turned to feel her way out of the room again.
Just as she got to the door it seemed to her that something softly
brushed her cheek, and a very, very faint "cuckoo" sounded as it were in
the air close to her.

Startled, but not frightened, Griselda stood perfectly still.

"Cuckoo," she said, softly. But there was no answer.

Again the tones of Miss Grizzel's voice coming upstairs reached her
ear.

"I _must_ go," said Griselda; and finding her way across the saloon
without, by great good luck, tumbling against any of the many breakable
treasures with which it was filled, she flew down the long passage
again, reaching her own room just before Dorcas appeared with her
supper.

Griselda slept badly that night. She was constantly dreaming of the
cuckoo, fancying she heard his voice, and then waking with a start to
find it was _only_ fancy. She looked pale and heavy-eyed when she came
down to breakfast the next morning; and her Aunt Tabitha, who was alone
in the room when she entered, began immediately asking her what was the
matter.

"I am sure you are going to be ill, child," she said, nervously. "Sister
Grizzel must give you some medicine. I wonder what would be the best.
Tansy tea is an excellent thing when one has taken cold, or----"

But the rest of Miss Tabitha's sentence was never heard, for at this
moment Miss Grizzel came hurriedly into the room--her cap awry, her
shawl disarranged, her face very pale. I hardly think any one had ever
seen her so discomposed before.

"Sister Tabitha!" she exclaimed, "what ca