Julie withdrew reluctantly. Outside she waited until she heard the key scrape in the lock. Then she tried the door, and being assured that it was really secure, she went down the steps to her own demesne, with a feeling of relief and safety. VIII The Bixbys moved into Aunt Sadie’s rooms the next day. The little apartment was already furnished, so there was not a great deal of moving to do: merely the carrying in of a couple of trunks, a phonograph, and a suit-case. The windows and doors were all open, and Julie down in her little shop could hear much of what went on overhead. She heard Elizabeth calling out sharp directions to Mr. Bixby as he staggered up the stairway under one of the trunks. Then he was sent off to buy a broom and some extra cooking-utensils. He came back presently, laden with all sorts of angular bundles; but he had evidently forgotten something, for his wife’s voice was raised in complaint. Julie could not often hear the exact words, and she almost never heard his answers. She gathered that often he did not reply at all, for every now and then Elizabeth would burst out, “_Answer_ me!” But at last they settled down and had dinner, after which Mr. Bixby went off to the office of the _Hart’s Run News_; Elizabeth did some ostentatious sweeping, and then the creaking tread of her footsteps subsided. “She’s taking a rest now,” Julie told herself. “She’ll get up after a little bit, and then she’ll dress herself and come down here.” It was curious how the whole morning, during all her accustomed duties in the shop, Julie had been aware of all that took place upstairs. The Bixbys’ activities ran in a disturbing undercurrent through all she did. She was right in supposing that Elizabeth would come down to the shop after she had had her nap. At about four o’clock Julie heard her get up, and after moving about for some time, she started down her outside stairs. Certain boards creaked in the floor above. And over her head the heavy footsteps had gone back and forth, punctuated every now and then by a cringing squeak. “I _must_ get those boards fixed,” Julie told herself. “I’ll go crazy if that keeps up. I don’t know why I never noticed them when the Edwardses were up there.” Realizing the impending encounter, Julie had made what defense she could. She had carried out to her back rooms the two extra chairs she usually kept in the shop, so that there was nowhere for a visitor to sit down, and was herself safely tucked in behind her counter, sewing, when Elizabeth entered. For her first visit the newcomer had made an elaborate toilet, consisting of a pink summer dress, white shoes, pink silk stockings, a string of white beads around her neck, and her face frankly made-up. She was rested and refreshed by her nap, and was handsome in a large self-confident way. She entered the shop with assurance, preceded by a wave of perfume.