But--she rubbed her eyes--was she dreaming? The cupboards, of which there were two in the old-fashioned room, the roomy chest of drawers, all stood open, as if to exhibit their contents and demand approval, and in them were arranged with the perfection of neatness and judiciousness all her possessions, last night in disorder and barely unpacked. And on a chair lay her garments for the day, not only those she had herself placed there, but a spotless cool white gown--much cooler than the black one she had travelled with--the very one she had been hoping to get out and don that morning. "Have I done it all in my sleep?" she asked, and then some undefined feeling made her open the door and peep out into the passage. Wonder of wonders! All the confusion had disappeared. There stood there, in dignified importance, two roomy, substantial trunks only, one of which she recognised as her cousin's principal one, with her initials in small brass nails on the lid, the other, similar in make and appearance, with the first letters of her own two names marked in the same way. The very sort of thing she had begun to long for since seeing Paulina's. She lifted the lid--a series of trays was disclosed, and examining further, she perceived at the bottom, most beautifully folded, all her own thicker clothing, gowns and woollens quite unsuitable for present wear, and as she went on in breathless excitement to peer into her cousin's, there was the same arrangement. The very garments she had herself put aside for the present, the evening before, lay there undisturbed, or rather, she suspected, far more exquisitely folded than she had left them. And all the rest, the bandboxes and carpet-bags and unbusiness-like odds and ends she had brought over the sea, had disappeared, as if by magic. "And magic it is," she said to herself, for, as she stood there listening, a clock in the distance struck five, not another sound or rustle was to be heard. Not a soul was as yet astir in the old house. Clodagh danced back into her room. "The fairies are afield," she sang to herself softly. Never had she felt so gay and light-hearted. "I shall dress and run out into the garden," she thought. "There is nothing to keep me indoors. Everything is safe"--for the heavy despatch-box she knew to be in Paulina's keeping. "What will the servants think when they see it?" What they did think was that each thought the others had cleared away the pile of the young ladies' luggage, leaving only what was required. Or at least, as no questions were asked, no remarks made, they probably thought so, if they thought about it at all! Perhaps their curiosity was put to sleep by some uncanny though not maleficent influence. Who can say?