Lilly Dogger lay close affecting to be asleep, though that feat in the time was impossible, and was afraid that the thump, thump of her heart, for she greatly feared Mrs. Tarnley, might be audible to that severe listener.
Out she went, however, without anything more, to the great relief of the girl.
Lilly Dogger lay awake, for fear is vigilant, and Mrs. Tarnley’s temper she knew was capricious as well as violent.
Through the door she heard the incessant croak of the old woman’s voice, as she grumbled and scolded in soliloquy, poking here and there about the kitchen. The girl lay awake, listening vaguely in the dark, and watching the one bright spot on the whitewashed wall at the foot of her bed, which Mrs. Tarnley’s candle in the kitchen transmitted through the keyhole. It flitted and glided, now hither, now thither, now up, now down, like a white butterfly in a garden, silently indicating the movements of the old woman, and illustrating the clatter of her clumsy old shoes.
In a little while the door opened again, and the old woman entered, having left her candle on the dresser outside.
Mrs. Tarnley listened for a while, and you may be sure Lilly Dogger lay still. Then the old woman, in a hard whisper, asked, “Are you awake?” and listened.
“Are ye awake, lass?” she repeated, and receiving no answer, she came close to the bed, by way of tucking in the coverlet, in reality to listen.
So she stood in silence by the bed for a minute, and then very quickly withdrew and closed the door.
Then Lilly Dogger heard her make some arrangements in the kitchen, and move, as she rightly concluded, a table which she placed against her door.
Then the white butterfly, having made a sudden sweep round the side wall, hovered no longer on Lilly Dogger’s darkened walls, and old Mildred Tarnley and her candle glided out of the kitchen.