s that possible? Unless, indeed, she
was taking leave of her senses. Because, even supposing that she could
fancy that another model of another mill could deceive her by a chance
likeness; how about those two tiny figures of little girls in white
bonnets and lilac frocks? Oh, that she could but prove them phantoms of
an imagination stimulated by the first seeming identity of the building
and the water-wheel! After all, all water-mills were much alike. Yes,
the chances were large that she had cheated herself. But
certainty--certainty--_that_ was what she wanted. She felt sick with the
intensity of her longing for firm ground.

Was it absolutely impossible that she should see for herself now--_now_?
She sat up in bed, looking longingly at the growing light of the
doorslip. After all, the model was but six paces beyond it, at the very
most. She would be back in bed in three minutes, and no harm done. No
need for a candle, with the light.

The bird outside said again the thing he had said before, and it seemed
to her like: "Yes--do it." She got out of bed and found her slippers
easily; then a warm overall of Gwen's providing. Never since her
impoverishment had she worn such good clothes.

Her feet might fail her--they had done so before now. But she would soon
find out, and would keep near the bed till she felt confidence.... Oh
yes--_they_ would be all right!

The door-hasp shrieked like a mandrake--as door-hasps do, in
silence--but waked no one, apparently. There was the kitchen-door at the
end of the brick-paved lobby, letting through dawn's first decision
about the beginning of the day. Old Maisie went cautiously over the
herring-boned pavement, with a hand against the wall for steadiness.
This door before her had an old-fashioned latch. It would not shriek,
but it might clicket.

Only a very little more, and then she was in the kitchen!

There was more light than she had expected, for one of the windows was
not only shutterless, but without either blind or curtain. She was not
surprised, for she remembered what her hostess had said about the
housedog, and security from thieves. That was a source of alarm, for one
short moment. Might he not hear her, and bark? Then a touch of a cold
nose, exploring her feet, answered the question. He _had_ heard her, and
he would not bark. He seemed to decide that there was no cause for
active intervention, and returned to his quarters, wherever they were.

But where was the sou