"How white it looks against the black!" said Jem; "it is like a white brick among the black ones. What a queer place a chimney is! I can see a bit of the blue sky, I think." And then a funny thought came into her fanciful little head. What a many things were burned in the big fireplace and vanished in smoke or tinder up the chimney! Where did everything go? There was Flora, for instance--Flora who was represented on the frontispiece--with lovely, soft, flowing hair, and a little fringe on her pretty round forehead, crowned with a circlet of daisies, and a laugh in her wide-awake round eyes. Where was she by this time? Certainly there was nothing left of her in the fire. Jem almost began to cry again at the thought. "It was too bad," she said. "She was so pretty and funny, and I did like her so." I daresay it scarcely will be credited by unbelieving people when I tell them what happened next, it was such a very singular thing, indeed. Jem felt herself gradually lifted off her little footstool. "Oh!" she said, timidly, "I feel very light." She did feel light, indeed. She felt so light that she was sure she was rising gently in the air. "Oh," she said again, "how--how very light I feel! Oh, dear, I'm going up the chimney!" It was rather strange that she never thought of calling for help, but she did not. She was not easily frightened; and now she was only wonderfully astonished, as she remembered afterwards. She shut her eyes tight and gave a little gasp. "I've heard Aunt Hetty talk about the draught drawing things up the chimney, but I never knew it was as strong as this," she said. She went up, up, up, quietly and steadily, and without any uncomfortable feeling at all; and then all at once she stopped, feeling that her feet rested against something solid. She opened her eyes and looked about her, and there she was, standing right opposite the white brick, her feet on a tiny ledge. "Well," she said, "this is funny." But the next thing that happened was funnier still. She found that, without thinking what she was doing, she was knocking on the white brick with her knackles, as if it was a door and she expected somebody to open it. The next minute she heard footsteps, and then a sound, as if some one was drawing back a little bolt. "It is a door," said Jem, "and somebody is going to open it." The white brick moved a little, and some more mortar and soot fell; then the brick moved a little more, and then it slid aside and left an open space. "It's a room!" cried Jem, "There's a room behind it!" And so there was, and before the open space stood a pretty little girl, with long lovely hair and a fringe on her forehead. Jem clasped her hands in amazement. It was Flora herself, as she looked in the picture, and Flora stood laughing and nodding. "Come in," she said. "I thought it was you." "But how can I come in through such a little place?" asked Jem. "Oh, that is easy enough," said Flora. "Here, give me your hand."