as the small sash allowed--and a warm, faint breeze came
across the plain to her. She leaned against the sill, looking out. It
was not far to the ground.... But she could see only vague blackness
down there, and she looked again up to the twinkling stars.... They were
little points of light up there, and she looked up trustfully while
the warm wind blew against her. Her heart was beating very hard--and
fast--but she was not afraid.... Mr. Achilles had said--not to be
afraid--and he was waiting--down there in the blackness to take her
home. She crept back to bed and lay down--very still. In the room below
there was a scraping of chairs and louder words--and footsteps....
Someone had opened the door under her window and the smell of tobacco
came up. Her little nose disdained it--and listened, alert. Footsteps
went out into the night and moved a little away on the gravel and came
back, and the door closed. She could hear the bolt click to its place
and the footsteps shuffle along the hall. The voices below had ceased
and the house was still--she was very sleepy now. But he had said--Mr.
Achilles had said.... She winked briskly and gave herself a little pinch
under the clothes--and sat up. It was a sharp little pinch--through many
thicknesses of clothes. Under the coarse nightgown buttoned carefully to
the throat, she was still wearing the red and green plaids and all
her day clothes. Only the clumsy shoes, slipped off, stood by the bed,
waiting for her. Her hand reached down to them cautiously, and felt
them--and she lay down and closed her eyes. There was a step on the
stairs--coming slowly. Betty Harris grew very still. If Mrs. Seabury
came in and stood and looked at her... she must cry out--and throw her
arms around her neck--and tell her _everything_! She could not hurt Mrs.
Seabury.... Mr. Achilles had said they would not hurt her. She had asked
him that--three times, herself--and Mr. Achilles had said it--no one
should hurt Mrs. Seabury--if Betty went away.... She held her breath....
The footsteps had come across the room--to her door--they waited
there... then they moved on--and she drew a free breath. Her heart
thumped to the vague movements that came and went in the next room--they
pottered about a little, and finally ceased and a light, indrawn breath
blew out the lamp--a hand was groping for the handle of her door--and
opening it softly--and the bare feet moved away. The bed-springs in the
next room creaked a litt