Before he could be torn from Grandam, “Noon” and the attic where he had found an atmosphere which was an amazement and a delight to him, Michael Schwankovsky took Ariel straight into his arms and kissed her forehead and her lips. “We are friends, my child,” he informed her and the world at large, “for eternity.” And Hugh saw, somewhat against his will, that Ariel liked Schwankovsky very much, and that his caresses neither surprised nor embarrassed her. Chapter XVII To-morrow, Saturday, Ariel (contrary to Mrs. Weyman’s predictions) would have held her job and given satisfaction for something over a week, and she was to have a holiday. Grandam had decided that one entire day free, rather than the two afternoons which had been Miss Peters’, would afford Ariel more of a break and give her a chance to begin getting acquainted with New York. Having a job now and money of her own, she could go ahead at this without loss of pride. Ariel was finishing getting Grandam to bed for the night. It was nearly midnight. “I don’t really like leaving you to-morrow,” she was protesting. “If Mrs. Ridelle doesn’t show up in the morning I shan’t be sorry.” “But she always does. She never fails. And you are to get right out and away the minute we have had breakfast. You’re free until midnight. Don’t even come in to say good night to me. It’s a totally free day. I want it that way. My only word of advice is, wear both your slippers home when you do come, and be in bed at the stroke of twelve. But your overshoes will secure the slippers.—This is probably the last snowfall we’ll have this year.” The soft thud of big flakes sounded constantly on the glass of the panes at the back of the faintly flowered curtains. The sound was lovely to Ariel. It was whiteness and stillness made sensible. But there came almost the same soft thud on the door, as Ariel was about to pull back the curtains, open the windows and let in the snowy night. “I can’t imagine,” Grandam murmured. “But go see.” Ariel opened the door into the brightly lighted attic hall. Nothing there. She stepped out, feeling eerie. Then she saw who had knocked. It was Anne Weyman, in hat and coat just as she had come from the station, pressed back against the wall, out of sight of Grandam’s bed. In the glaring overhead light she looked ghastly. “Ariel Clare,” she whispered, “I’ve got to see you. How soon can you sneak down to my room? No one but Rose knows I’m home, and I don’t want they should. Rose said you were up here!” “I can’t come down at all,” Ariel whispered back. “I have to keep in touch with Grandam’s bell, you see. I’m in Miss Peters’ place. Did you know? But go on into my bedroom and I’ll be there in a minute. Or don’t you want to speak to Grandam first?” “No. Absolutely. Don’t tell her I’m here, or anything. Only hurry.”