her. What a pity that the doorwas locked! Why had it been done? She sighed unconsciously severaltimes during the evening, and Jane Foster thought she was tired.
"But you'll sleep cool enough to-night, Judy," she said. "And geta good rest. Them little breezes that comes rustling through thetrees in the Park comes right along the street to us."
She and Jem Foster slept well. They spent the evening in thehighest spirits and--as it seemed to them--the most luxuriouscomfort. The space afforded them by the big basement, with itskitchen and laundry and pantry, and, above all, the speciallylarge room which had been used for billiard playing, suppliedactual vistas. For the sake of convenience and coolness they usedthe billiard room as a dormitory, sleeping on light cots, andthey slept with all their windows open, the little breezeswandering from among the trees of the Park to fan them. How theylaughed and enjoyed themselves over their supper, and how theystretched themselves out with sighs of joy in the darkness asthey sank into the cool, untroubled waters of deep sleep.
"This is about the top notch," Jem murmured as he lost his holdon the world of waking life and work.
But though she was cool, though she was undisturbed, though herbody rested in absolute repose, Judith did not sleep for a longtime. She lay and listened to the quietness. There was mystery init. The footstep of a belated passer-by in the street wokestrange echoes; a voice heard in the distance in a riotous shoutsuggested weird things. And as she lay and listened, it was as ifshe were not only listening but waiting for something. She didnot know at all what she was waiting for, but waiting she was.
She lay upon her cot with her arms flung out and her eyes wideopen. What was it that she wanted--that which was in the closedroom? Why had they locked the door? If they had locked the doorsof the big parlours it would not have mattered. If they hadlocked the door of the library--Her mind paused--as if for amoment, something held it still. Then she remembered that to havelocked the doors of the library would have been to lock in thepicture of the child with the greeting look in her eyes and thefine little uplifted hand. She was glad the room had been leftopen. But the room up-stairs--the one on the fourth floor--thatwas the one that mattered most of all. She knew that to-morrowshe must go and stand at the door and press her cheek against thewood and wait--and listen. Thinking this and knowing that it mustbe so, she fell--at last--asleep.
PART TWO
Judith climbed the basement stairs rather slowly. Her mother wasbusy rearranging the disorder the hastily departing servants hadleft. Their departure had indeed been made in sufficient haste tohave left behind the air of its having been flight. There was agreat deal to be done, and Jane Foster, moving about with broomand pail and scrubbing brushes, did not dislike the excitement ofthe work before her. Judith's certainty that she would not bemissed made all clear before her. If her absence was observed hermother would realize that the whole house lay open to her andthat she was an undisturbing element wheresoever she was ledeither by her fancy or by circumstance. If she went into theparlours she would probably sit and talk to herself or playquietly with her shabby doll. In any case she would be findingpleasure of her own and would touch nothing which could beharmed.
When the child found herself in the entrance hall she stopped afew moments to look about her. The stillness seemed to hold herand she paused to hear and feel it. In leaving the basementbehind, she had left the movement of living behind also. No onewas alive upon this floor--nor upon the next--nor the next. Itwas as if one had entered a new world--a world in which somethingexisted which did not express itself in sound or in things whichone could see. Chairs held out their arms to emptiness--cushionswere not pressed by living things--only the people in thepictures were looking at something, but one could not tell whatthey were looking at.
But on the fourth floor was the Closed Room, which she must goto--because she must go to it--that was all she knew.
She began to mount the stairs which led to the upper floors. Hershabby doll was held against her hip by one arm, her right handtouched the wall as she went, she felt the height of the wall asshe looked upward. It was such a large house and so empty. Wherehad the people gone and why had they left it all at once as ifthey were afraid? Her father had only heard vaguely that they hadgone because they had had trouble.
She passed the second floor, the third, and climbed towards thefourth. She could see the door of the Closed Room as she went upstep by step, and she found herself moving more quickly. Yes, shemust get to it--she must put her hand on it--her chest began torise and fall with a quickening of her breath, and her breathquickened because her heart fluttered--as if with her haste. Shebegan to be glad, and if any one could have seen her they wouldhave been struck by a curious expectant smile in her eyes.
She reached the landing and crossed it, running the last fewsteps lightly. She did not wait or stand still a moment. With thestrange expectant smile on her lips as well as in her eyes, sheput her hand upon the door--not upon the handle, but upon thepanel. Without any sound it swung quietly open. And without anysound she stepped quietly inside.
The room was rather large and the light in it was dim. There wereno shutters, but the blinds were drawn down. Judith went to oneof the windows and drew its blind up so that the look of theplace might be clear to her. There were two windows and theyopened upon the flat roof of an extension, which suggestedsomehow that it had been used as a place to walk about in. This,at least, was what Judith thought of at once--that some one whohad used the room had been in the habit of going out upon theroof and staying there as if it had been a sort of garden. Therewere rows of flower pots with dead flowers in them--there weregreen tubs containing large shrubs, which were dead also--againstthe low parapet certain of them held climbing plants which hadbeen trained upon it. Two had been climbing roses, two wereclematis, but Judith did not know them by name. The ledge of thewindow was so low that a mere step took her outside. So takingit, she stood among the dried, withered things and looked intender regret at them.
"I wish they were not dead," she said softly to the silence. "Itwould be like a garden if they were not dead."
The sun was hot, but a cool, little breeze seemed straying upfrom among the trees of the Park. It even made the dried leavesof the flowers tremble and rustle a little. Involuntarily shelifted her face to the blue sky and floating white clouds. Theyseemed so near that she felt almost as if she could touch themwith her hand. The street seemed so far--so far below--the wholeworld seemed far below. If one stepped off the parapet it wouldsurely take one a long time to reach the earth. She knew now whyshe had come up here. It was so that she might feel like this--asif she was upheld far away from things--as if she had lefteverything behind--almost as if she had fallen awake again. Therewas no perfume in the air, but all was still and sweet and clear.
Suddenly she turned and went into the room again, realizing thatshe had scarcely seen it at all and that she must see and knowit. It was not like any other room she had seen. It looked moresimple, though it was a pretty place. The walls were covered withroses, there were bright pictures, and shelves full of books.There was also a little writing desk and there were two or threelow chairs, and a low table. A closet in a corner had its doorajar and Judith could see that inside toys were piled together.In another corner a large doll's house stood, looking as if someone had just stopped playing with it. Some toy furniture had beentaken out and left near it upon the carpet.
"It was a little girl's room," Judith said. "Why did they closeit?"
Her eye was caught by something lying on a sofa--somethingcovered with a cloth. It looked almost like a child lying thereasleep--so fast asleep that it did not stir at all. Judith movedacross to the sofa and drew the cloth aside. With its head upon acushion was lying there a very large doll, beautifully dressed inwhite lace, its eyes closed, and a little wreath of dead flowersin its hair.
"It looks almost as if it had died too," said Judith.
She did not ask herself why she said "as if it had diedtoo"--perhaps it was because the place was so st
ill--andeverything so far away--that the flowers had died in the strange,little deserted garden on the roof.
She did not hear any footsteps--in fact, no ghost of a soundstirred the silence as she stood looking at the doll's sleep--butquite quickly she ceased to bend forward, and turned round tolook at something which she knew was near her. There she was--andit was quite natural she should be there--the little girl withthe face like a white flower, with the quantity of burnishedcoppery hair and the smile which deepened the already deep dimplenear her mouth.
"You have come to play with me," she said.
"Yes," answered Judith. "I wanted to come all night. I could notstay down-stairs."
"No," said the child; "you can't stay down-stairs. Lift up thedoll."
They began to play as if they had spent their lives together.Neither asked the other any questions. Judith had