"Letitia, my dear, I wish you would run upstairs and get me that little work-basket out of my bedroom," she said, after a while. Lights had been brought in, for it was getting dark. "Oh, bother,—why don't you ring for the maid? I'm tired." As with most spoilt children, "tired" with her meant "out of temper." "Really, my dear, you might speak more civilly." And Euphrasia started up, actually blushing for Letitia. "Please let me! I should like so much to go. Yes, I know your bedroom—the front room over this. And the work-basket—" "Well, really, you are very kind! I'm most obliged—but after all—yes, just a little work-basket, on the small table within the door. But I don't like—" Euphrasia was gone. "I call 'that' obliging," said Mrs. Johnston. Euphrasia had no difficulty in finding her way, though the landing above was dark. It seemed that the servants had delayed later than usual lighting the gas. She gained the room, found the work-basket, and set off swiftly to return. Too swiftly for one not familiar with the geography of the house. Before she knew it, the first short flight was reached. When just about to move cautiously, in search of the stairs, her foot was already over the topmost step. Beyond that—a dead blank! [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII A STEP IN THE DARK "LETITIA, what is that noise?" "Somebody has let something fall, I suppose. The servants are always dropping trays about." "Somebody has fallen down, I am sure. Not Miss Mackenzie, I hope! Do pray see." Mrs. Johnston did not wait for Letitia's reluctant motion. Although usually far from rapid herself, being of lymphatic temperament, she started out of her chair, and hurried into the hall. "Nothing here, but the sound seemed to come from above. Do find out. How you dawdle, child! I declare, the fright has turned me positively ill. If Miss Mackenzie—" Letitia, mounting unwillingly to the half-way landing, broke into a scream: "Mother, it is Euphrasia! Down a whole flight!" And Mrs. Johnston hastened thither. Euphrasia was coming to herself. The first shock had driven away all conscious sensation. For though the flight was not a long one, she had fallen with considerable force. But she woke up to her position as Mrs. Johnston arrived on the scene. Letitia stood looking in blank dismay, not offering to help. "I'm sorry—so stupid of me—" were Euphrasia's first words, uttered vaguely. She was hardly yet awake to actual pain, but an odd dread of the least movement held her in a cramped heap. "It isn't—it won't be much." "Can I help you up, my dear?" asked Mrs. Johnston, with extended hand. Euphrasia could have cried out, "Oh, don't!" merely from that instinct that she might not move. She resisted the impulse and made an effort to raise herself, only to sink back, voicelessly clutching the nearest baluster.