"Why! Why have they put the bureau over there?" she demanded aloud of the miniature of Glorious Lutie which hung beside the bureau. With a vague alarm, her eyes sped from point to point. The dado of Weejubs stood out as though freshly restored. But all her pictures were gone; the four colored prints, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter--each the head of a little girl, decked with buds or flowers, fruit or furs, had vanished. The faded squares where they had hung showed on the walls. Oh, woe, her favorite of all, "My Little White Kittens," had disappeared too. On the other hand--on table, on bureau, and on commode-top--crowded the little Chinese toys. "Why, when did they bring them in from the Dew Pond?" she asked herself, again aloud. With a sudden stab of memory, she reached her hand up on the wall. How curious! Only yesterday she could scarcely touch the spring; now her hand went far beyond it. She pressed. The little panel opened slowly. She raised herself in bed and looked through the aperture. Glorious Lutie's room was stark--bare, save for a bed and her long wooden writing-table. Her thoughts flew madly ... suddenly her whole acceptance of things crumbled. Why! She wasn't Cherie and eight. She was Susannah and twenty-five; and the last time she had been anywhere she had been in New York.... Lightnings of memory tore at her ... the Carbonado Mining Company ... Eloise ... a Salvation Army woman on the street ... roofers. Yet this was Blue Meadows. She did not have to pinch herself or press on her sleepy eyelids. It _was_ Blue Meadows. The trumpet-vine, though as gigantic as Jack's beanstalk, proved it. The painted furniture proved it. The Chinese toys proved it. Yes, and if she wanted the final touch that clinched all argument, there beside the head of the bed was the maple gazelle. This really was not the final proof. The final proof was human and it entered the room at that moment in the person of Mrs. Spash. And Mrs. Spash--in her old, quaint inaccurate way--was calling her as Cherry. Susannah burst into tears. * * * * * "Oh, I feel so much better now," Susannah said after a little talk; more sleep; then talk again. "I'm going to be perfectly well in a little while. I want to get up. And oh, dear Mrs. Spash--do you remember how sometimes I used to call you Mrs. Splash? I do want as soon as possible to see Mr. Lindsay and his cousin--Miss Stockbridge, did you say? I want to thank them, of course. How can I ever thank them enough? And I want to talk to him about the biography. Oh, I'm sure I can give him so much. And I can make out a list of people who can tell him all the things you and I don't remember; or never knew. And then, in my trunk in New York, is a package of all Glorious Lutie's letters to me. I think he will want to publish some of them; they are so lovely, so full of our games--and jingles, and even drawings. Couldn't I sit up now?"