If big things happened to the Mrs. Todds and the Peters in the world, surely big things would come to her. Mrs. Todd stopped at the garden gate of the Pages and held out her hand. "Good night, child," she said. "Don't think too much of all I have told you, or, if you do, remember this: no matter how much sorrow there is in this old world of ours, there is never a minute of it that is not worth the living. And now, good night; go to your Enchanted Kingdom whenever you like, it is more yours now than it ever was." Janet held the big firm hand tight, but all she could find to say was "thank you." There were a hundred questions that she wanted to ask, and she finally found the words for the most important of them all. "Mrs. Todd," she asked softly, "did you know my mother?" Mrs. Todd looked at her intently for a long time and then she looked at the light that always burned in Mrs. Page's room. "Yes, my child, I did, and I loved her; but then everybody did with the exception of--" she hesitated; "no, that's not quite fair, so I won't finish. Some day, with your grandmother's permission, I will tell you all I can about her, and now hurry in and eat your dinner or Martha will be having one of her nervous spells." Janet laughed, and squeezed Mrs. Todd's hand a little harder before she let it go. "All right," she promised, "I just suddenly realized that I am as hungry as a bear." Then Mrs. Todd did something that would have surprised her friends. She leaned out of the carriage and kissed Janet. Martha was on the verge of a nervous spell, Janet found her looking out of the front hall window. She tiptoed up behind her and said "boo." "Miss Janet, you're home at last; wherever have you been!" Martha exclaimed. "I have been worried to death over you out in that storm." "Oh, but I wasn't out in all of it,"--Janet laughed. "I've been driving with Mrs. Todd." "I might have known that," Martha said, exasperation written large on her face. "Ann Hitchens was always one to upset things. Here we've been living in peace for years and the minute she comes back, oh, deary me, everything's a-flutter and topsy-turvy, I wish she'd go away again, I do indeed." "But she won't," Janet replied happily. "She is never going away again, and I am so glad I could dance." Martha sniffed, and when Martha sniffed it was never necessary for her to put her meaning into words. "Well, don't dance into your grandmother's room," she advised. "Walk like a little lady and go at once. She has been worrying about you all afternoon." Contrary to all expectations, Mrs. Page had nothing to say about the lateness of the hour. She greeted Janet as usual, told her to wash her hands and eat her dinner; then she turned her face to the wall, her way of saying good night. Janet was about to leave the room, but something made her pause at the foot of the bed. "Grandmother," she said slowly. "Well!" Mrs. Page sat up and looked at her.