belonging to the house where the little girl lived, and
it was plain that if he could only get up there he could find out all
about her. Once there, he felt sure she would take him by the hand and
together they would go away--away--somewhere! But the mantel was very
high, and polished like glass.

One afternoon when he had come in from a long drive, and feeling tired
was lying very still in his usual place, looking up at the little girl
and the long passage that seemed to stretch away behind her, a strange
thing happened. So unexpectedly it sent his heart into his mouth, the
girl stepped out of the doorway; and then, wonder of wonders! he saw a
stairway at one side of the chimney-piece where he had never noticed one
before.

Daintily holding up her silken skirt, the little maid descended and
stood beside him. Astonished and bewildered, he put out his hand to
touch her, but with a laugh she flitted across the room.

Seized with the fear that she would escape him altogether, the boy
started in pursuit. In and out among the massive chairs and tables they
ran, the girl always just out of reach, the boy breathless with anxiety.
His heart quite failed him when she darted toward the mantel. Then he
remembered he could follow; and indeed she seemed to expect it, for she
stood still at the top of what had grown to be a very long flight of
steps, and beckoned. He hurried on, but the steps were very steep and
slippery, and try as he would he could not reach the top.

Suddenly some one opened the library door, there was a crash and a
clatter, the girl disappeared, and the boy heard his mother's voice
asking, "Jack, what in the world are you doing?"

"I fell down the steps," he replied, picking himself up from among the
fire irons that had tumbled in a heap on the hearth.

"What steps?" asked his mother.

He rubbed his eyes: they were not to be seen, and the little girl--yes,
there she was, looking out of the golden doorway, and he was sure she
shook her finger and laughed. He gave up trying to explain--grown people
are hopelessly stupid at times--but he always felt certain that if the
library door had not opened just when it did, he could have caught the
little girl.

"Wasn't it a pity!" Frances always exclaimed at this point.

"Yes," her father would reply, "the little boy lost the chance of a
lifetime, for there is no knowing what he might not have discovered in
the house of the golden doorway."

"And she never came d