tonishment; the old clock ignored the
halves and quarters, so the time must be two o'clock in the morning!
She never remembered having been up so early or so late before, and the
thought that she was wandering about the house at that unearthly hour
made her feel quite queer.

"What can Brian be about?" she murmured. "He can't have been sitting up
working till this time."

She turned the handle of the door, and stepped across the threshold. The
cold night air made her shiver, the whir of the grindstone came clear
and distinct from the tool-house, and the window still gleamed with
the same subdued, ghostly light. Elsie had intended to rush across the
flagstones, fling open the door, shout "Brian, go to bed!" and then
herself beat a hasty retreat; but, just when she was on the point of
doing so, she hesitated.

What if it shouldn't be Brian after all? And if it were not her cousin,
who or what could be there in the tool-house turning the grindstone at
two o'clock in the morning?

It is when we pause to think that fear often takes hold of us. Elsie was
a brave child; but, somehow, just then her courage seemed to desert her.
She remained for an instant listening to the whispering of the night
wind, and the mysterious sound which had first roused her from her
slumbers; then she drew back in sudden panic, locked the door as if in
the fear of some lion, and went quickly back the way she had come.

"Tick-tack! tick-tack!" muttered the old clock. He never felt afraid at
having to stand alone all night in the darkness. Elsie hurried past him,
and after one or two stumbles on the stairs, regained her bedroom.

"Ida! Wake up!"

"Every one of my sums is right," murmured Ida drowsily. "You can always
get them right with a blue pencil."

"Wake up, Ida! I want to tell you something."

"Oh, bother!" grumbled the elder girl. "What's the matter, Elsie? What
d'you want to keep shaking me for when I'm sound asleep?"

"Why, I want to tell you there's some one turning our grindstone."

"Well, what if they are? I suppose it's meant to be turned."

"But not now. It's two o'clock in the morning. No one ought to be about
there at this time."

Ida sat up, rubbed her eyes, and yawned.

"What d'you mean?" she exclaimed.

"Listen!" was the answer. "You'll hear the noise. Some one was working
the grindstone. Why, I heard the little squeak of the treadle as plainly
as anything."

"You have been dreaming, you little silly!"

"No, I