Rosemary kissed her good night--Winnie's arms had been the first to hold Rosemary when she was born--and went into her own pretty room. She did not hurry over undressing and even attempted to read as she brushed her hair. Of course neither pleasure nor task went forward very smoothly, but Rosemary enjoyed the sensation of dawdling. She was not sleepy and it was pleasant to play that she was a lady of leisure. Then, before she was ready for bed, she must needs try her hair a new way and turn on all the lights in the room to get the effect. "It will be so exciting," said Rosemary, staring with naive satisfaction at the pink-cheeked girl in the white kimono who stared back at her from the glass, "it will be so exciting to go to dances and parties. If I ever get to high school, I'll be thankful, for then there is always something happening. I hope there's a dancing school that's some good in Eastshore this winter." At last Rosemary was ready for bed. She pattered over and felt of the floor under the two screened windows--quite dry, so the rain, if there had been rain, had not beat in. "But it isn't raining," said Rosemary to herself, snapping off the lights and trying to see out into the darkness. "When it rains we can hear it on the tin roof of the porch; it is only cloudy and windy." Mindful of her promise to Winnie, she opened her door--though as a rule the Willis family slept with individual bedroom doors closed--and listened for a moment, peering into the shadowy hall. There was not a sound and no light shone under Winnie's door--it must be open and she was asleep. "How the wind does blow!" said Rosemary, safe in bed, wondering if she ought to get up and pin the muslin curtains back for they fluttered madly. Before she could act on this thought, she was asleep. How long she slept she did not know, but she woke to find Winnie standing beside the bed. "Rosemary!" she whispered. "Rosemary! There's the most awful racket you ever heard!" Rosemary sat up in bed and drew the blanket around her. "What--what's the matter?" she stammered. "Hush--don't wake up Shirley and start her crying," warned Winnie who looked taller than ever in the scant gray dressing gown she had pulled tightly about her. "Sarah wouldn't wake if the house caved in--there, do you hear that?" Rosemary listened intently. She shook her head. "I don't hear anything," she said. "Then come out in the hall and you will," advised Winnie, stalking toward the door. Rosemary followed sleepily. She didn't want to listen to noises and she couldn't help wishing that Winnie had been a little harder of hearing. "There--hear that?" Winnie's tone was almost triumphant. Through the whole house sounded a wail that rose as they listened and mounted to a shriek. In spite of her desire to remain cool and calm, Rosemary shivered. "It woke me up," whispered Winnie fearfully. "I never, in all my born days, heard anything like it." "What--what makes it?" said Rosemary.