Hush! The night-gowned, barefooted small figure crept down the wide staircase. Outside, the garden covered with snow glittered under the light of the big, beautiful full moon; it was so bright that it put out all the stars except those in far-away corners. There was a colored window on that staircase. As Kitty crept past it a bar of pink light, a square of lovely blue, a patch of orange shaped like a dragon fell upon her white night-gown. The trees outside were still, as if they were fast asleep under their eider-down covering of snow.
Hush! There was not a sound or a stir through the house, except the flap, flap of Kitty’s bare feet on the stairs. Suddenly a mouse ran across; Kitty saw its long tail quite distinctly. She was very much afraid of mice; the sight of one would give her a creepy feeling. But to-night she did not care for this mouse, nor for an army of mice. She was going to see Johnnie. She had no fear, except that of not being able to reach him.
Hush! Suddenly a stair creaked, and the creak sounded like a scream through the silence. Kitty huddled herself up, her shoulders to her ears, her elbows and hands pressed close against her sides and chest. She stood a moment or two staring, and thump, thump went her heart; but everything remained silent as before, and the bare toes resumed their march—cautiously—down—down. Now she sees Johnnie’s door. It is not quite shut. Something is standing before it. What is it? Something white and small. Is it Johnnie’s spirit?
Flutter—flutter—thump—thump went her heart. She stood trembling with terror; but alive or dead she must see Johnnie. Her love is greater than her fear. Down—down she goes, keeping her eyes fixed on that white thing before the door. Then she almost laughs out, for she sees it is no spirit, but a white apron hanging just inside the door.
Hush! Just as Kitty reaches the last step a door opens below. It is the kitchen door. She hears the servant talking. Nurse’s voice reaches her quite plainly. Is she coming up? Beat—beat—beat goes Kitty’s heart, and she peers over the balusters.
The next moment the door is shut again, and once more there is not a stir or a sound through the house.
Hush! Cautiously—cautiously Kitty pushes Johnnie’s door wide enough open to let her pass in.
She stands now in the dear familiar room. A fire burning in the grate fills every corner with a ruddy glow. She sees the pictures on the walls, on the table the medicine bottles and a spoon, in its accustomed place the low red-cushioned chair and tiny crutch beside it. A little bed with white curtains stands in a corner.
Softly—softly Kitty makes her way toward the bed, and pauses when she approaches it.
Johnnie’s face is on the pillow, white as the snow in the garden; all around it a cloud of golden hair. His eyes are closed, and the long lashes look very dark against the pale cheeks.