When at first Mr. Foster did not return she was not alarmed, and stretched herself on the convenient camp-bed the better to enjoy the full flavour of her jest. It was annoying that her jailer should have thought it necessary to lock her in, but she had no anxiety as to her final escape when the time should arrive. She was still in a recumbent position when, some twenty minutes later, she heard, not without relief, stealthy footsteps approaching. The tool-shed was, for its kind, a well-lighted structure. There were two windows, both small but comparatively free from dust, in each side fronting the garden, so that the light, entering in two different directions, was well diffused. The footsteps stopped by the door, and for a few moments there was an unaccountable silence. Then, looking up, Dora became aware of a face peering in at one of the windows. It was a nondescript sort of face, of the female genus, and it wore an indescribable expression. Startled by this unexpected appearance, Dora lifted herself on one elbow and stared at the face. The face stared back. Having stared its full it withdrew, and footsteps an instant later showed that its owner was taking it back to the house very much more quickly than she had brought it. “Well, I’ll be bothered!” said Miss Dora Howard. She remained bothered, on her back, for another half-hour, until her wrist-watch showed that it was past one o’clock. Then she began to prowl round her prison, her soul filled with dark thoughts about Mr. Foster. Unconscious that at the same moment he also was prowling round a prison, and a much more repellent one at that, she was now very much less sure of her success with that gentleman. Either he had seen through her and was now fitting her punishment to her crime, or else he simply considered that by providing her with food and bedding and a stout locked door, he had done quite enough for her for the time being. In either case the outlook was not bright. She went on prowling. At a quarter to two she gave up the walls and door as hopeless for a poor weak woman, even armed with a hoe. The windows were two small to bother with, so she mounted on the wheelbarrow to examine the roof. The roof was composed of far too many stout rafters covered with much too much corrugated iron. At a quarter-past two she had managed, with the aid of the hoe, a fork, and a piece of the broken dibber, to slide a piece of the latter far enough down the slope to enable her to protrude her head tortoise-like through the aperture and survey the outer world, her shoulders pressed against the rafters; farther than that the wretched thing refused to budge. At half-past two a small boy and a dog went by along the lane; at twenty minutes to three two old women. After these the stream of traffic ran dry.