When Derrick reached the house he was in an exceedingly anxious state of mind. He stepped into the entrance hall and listened. And heard no sound. He passed rapidly through the master’s rooms downstairs and upstairs. In the sewing room a thread and needle was mending the heel of a silk stocking, but there did not seem to be anybody in the room. He looked from the window and saw two fishing poles and a tin pail moving eagerly toward the river. The boys, perhaps. Oh, what _could_ they have done to separate themselves from him? The window was open and he called and shouted, but the fishing poles and the tin pail kept on going. He went downstairs, through the dining room and into the pantry. His heart stood still. On tiptoe on the seat of a chair stood his little girl, Ethel. Her hair shone like spun gold. She looked like an angel. And his heart swelled with an exquisite bliss; but before he could speak to her and make himself known, she had reached down something from the next to the top shelf and put it in her mouth. At that instant she vanished. He lingered for a while about the house and gardens, but it was no use. He knew that. They had all sinned in some way or other, and therefore he was indeed dead to them, and they to him. Back of the stables were woods. From these woods there came a sudden sound of barking. The sound was familiar to Derrick, and thrilled him. “If I can hear Scoop,” he thought, “Scoop can hear me.” He whistled long and shrill. Not long after a little black dog came running, his stomach to the ground, his floppy silk ears flying. With a sob, Derrick knelt and took the little dog in his arms. * * * * * “Oh, Mumsey!” called Ethel. “Do come and look at Scoopie. He’s doing all his tricks by himself, just as if somebody was telling him to do them.” The two looked from a window, and saw the little dog sit up and play dead and roll over--all very joyously--and jump as if through circled arms. Then they saw his tail droop and his head droop and his left hind leg begin to scratch furiously at his ribs. He always _had_ to do that when anyone scratched his back in a particular place. * * * * * When Derrick returned to the Place of the wonderful lights and shadows he was very unhappy and he knew that he must always be unhappy. “Instead of coming to this Place,” he said to himself, “knowing what I know now, I might just as well have gone to Hell.” A voice, sardonic and on the verge of laughter, answered him. “That’s just what you did.” SHADOWED BY MARY SYNON From _Red Book_