would never have thought of looking had they not already searched every
other place they could think of in vain. But by this time she was
knocking at the old lady's door.

CHAPTER 15

Woven and Then Spun

'Come in, Irene,' said the silvery voice of her grandmother.

The princess opened the door and peeped in. But the room was quite
dark and there was no sound of the spinning-wheel. She grew frightened
once more, thinking that, although the room was there, the old lady
might be a dream after all. Every little girl knows how dreadful it is
to find a room empty where she thought somebody was; but Irene had to
fancy for a moment that the person she came to find was nowhere at all.
She remembered, however, that at night she spun only in the moonlight,
and concluded that must be why there was no sweet, bee-like humming:
the old lady might be somewhere in the darkness. Before she had time
to think another thought, she heard her voice again, saying as before:
'Come in, Irene.' From the sound, she understood at once that she was
not in the room beside her. Perhaps she was in her bedroom. She
turned across the passage, feeling her way to the other door. When her
hand fell on the lock, again the old lady spoke:

'Shut the other door behind you, Irene. I always close the door of my
workroom when I go to my chamber.'

Irene wondered to hear her voice so plainly through the door: having
shut the other, she opened it and went in. Oh, what a lovely haven to
reach from the darkness and fear through which she had come! The soft
light made her feel as if she were going into the heart of the milkiest
pearl; while the blue walls and their silver stars for a moment
perplexed her with the fancy that they were in reality the sky which
she had left outside a minute ago covered with rainclouds.

'I've lighted a fire for you, Irene: you're cold and wet,' said her
grandmother.

Then Irene looked again, and saw that what she had taken for a huge
bouquet of red roses on a low stand against the wall was in fact a fire
which burned in the shapes of the loveliest and reddest roses, glowing
gorgeously between the heads and wings of two cherubs of shining
silver. And when she came nearer, she found that the smell of roses
with which the room was filled came from the fire-roses on the hearth.
Her grandmother was dressed in the loveliest pale blue velvet, over
which her hair, no longer white, but of a rich golden colour, streame