“Oh, no!”
“Of course, there is nothing to be afraid of,” said Alice. “Now I will go to the other door.”
Annie sat there until the moon sank. She did not feel in the least sleepy. She sat there and counted up her joys of life and almost forgot poor Margaret who had trampled hers in the dust raised by her own feet of self-seeking. Then came the whistle and roar of a train and Alice stole around the house.
“It is safe enough for us to go now,” said she. “That was the last train. Do you think you can get in your house without waking anybody?”
“There is no danger unless I wake grandmother. She wakes very early of herself and she may not be asleep and her hearing is very quick.”
“What will she say?”
“I think I can manage her.”
“Well, we must hurry. It is lucky that my room is away from the others or I should not be sure of getting there unsuspected. Hurry, Annie.”
The two sped swiftly and noiselessly down the street, which was now very dark. The village houses seemed rather awful with their dark windows like sightless eyes. When they reached Annie's house Alice gave her a swift kiss. “Good-night,” she whispered.
“Alice.”