There was silence at this, as though they had been ghosts, indeed, and had taken to flight at the breath of the living.
“Speak! Who is it?” cried Winifred with a fearful shrillness now. A chair grated on the floor inside, hurried steps were heard, a key turned, the door opened a very little, and Winifred saw the gaunt face of Rachel Craik looking dourly at her, for she had frightened this masterful woman very thoroughly.
“Oh, aunt, it is you!” gasped Winifred with a flutter of relief.
“You are to go to bed, Winnie,” said Rachel.
“It is you! They have let you out, then?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happened; let me come in—”
“Go back to bed; there’s a good girl. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”
“Oh, but I am glad! I was so lonely and frightened! Aunt, what was it all about?”