ife began to descend the steps of her back porch.
Snooky, regretful eyes on the toothsome dainties, turned away aggrieved.
The Very Young Wife, her lips set, her eyes flashing, advanced and
seized the shrieking Snooky by one writhing arm and dragged her away
toward home and safety.

Blanche Devine stood there at the fence, holding the saucer in her hand.
The saucer tipped slowly, and the three cookies slipped off and fell to
the grass. Blanche Devine followed them with her eyes and stood staring
at them a moment. Then she turned quickly, went into the house and shut
the door.

It was about this time we noticed that Blanche Devine was away much of
the time. The little white cottage would be empty for a week. We knew
she was out of town because the expressman would come for her trunk. We
used to lift our eyebrows significantly. The newspapers and handbills
would accumulate in a dusty little heap on the porch; but when she
returned there was always a grand cleaning, with the windows open, and
Blanche--her head bound turbanwise in a towel--appearing at a window
every few minutes to shake out a dustcloth. She seemed to put an
enormous amount of energy into those cleanings--as if they were a sort
of safety valve.

As winter came on she used to sit up before her grate fire long, long
after we were asleep in our beds. When she neglected to pull down the
shades we could see the flames of her cosy fire dancing gnomelike on the
wall.

There came a night of sleet and snow, and wind and rattling hail--one of
those blustering, wild nights that are followed by morning-paper reports
of trains stalled in drifts, mail delayed, telephone and telegraph wires
down. It must have been midnight or past when there came a hammering at
Blanche Devine's door--a persistent, clamorous rapping. Blanche Devine,
sitting before her dying fire half asleep, started and cringed when she
heard it; then jumped to her feet, her hand at her breast--her eyes
darting this way and that, as though seeking escape.

She had heard a rapping like that before. It had meant bluecoats
swarming up the stairway, and frightened cries and pleadings, and wild
confusion. So she started forward now, quivering. And then she
remembered, being wholly awake now--she remembered, and threw up her
head and smiled a little bitterly and walked toward the door. The
hammering continued, louder than ever. Blanche Devine flicked on the
porch light and opened the door. The half-clad fi