She stretched up tall to overlook the light That hung in both hands hot against her skirt. "There's no one; so you're wrong," he said. "There is.-- What do you want?" she cried, and then herself Was startled when an answer really came. "Nothing." It came from well along the road. She reached a hand to Joel for support: The smell of scorching woollen made her faint. "What are you doing round this house at night?" "Nothing." A pause: there seemed no more to say. And then the voice again: "You seem afraid. I saw by the way you whipped up the horse. I'll just come forward in the lantern light And let you see." "Yes, do.--Joel, go back!" She stood her ground against the noisy steps That came on, but her body rocked a little. "You see," the voice said. "Oh." She looked and looked. "You don't see--I've a child here by the hand." "What's a child doing at this time of night----?" "Out walking. Every child should have the memory Of at least one long-after-bedtime walk. What, son?" "Then I should think you'd try to find Somewhere to walk----" "The highway as it happens-- We're stopping for the fortnight down at Dean's." "But if that's all--Joel--you realize-- You won't think anything. You understand? You understand that we have to be careful. This is a very, very lonely place. Joel!" She spoke as if she couldn't turn. The swinging lantern lengthened to the ground, It touched, it struck it, clattered and went out. The Self-seeker