So she stepped in boldly, holding the candle high, and proceeded along the corridor. There were tightly closed doors on either side, and behind each door was a mystery. She could not help but feel this. Every door was a menace to her peace of mind. "But I will _not_ think of such things," she told herself. "I know if there _is_ anybody about the house, it is a very human somebody indeed--and he has no business here at this time of night!" In her bed-slippers 'Phemie's light feet fell softly on the frayed oilcloth that carpeted the long hall. Dimly she saw two or three heavy, ancient pieces of furniture standing about--a tall escritoire with three paneled mirrors, which reflected herself and her candle dimly; a long davenport with hungry arms and the dust lying thick upon its haircloth upholstery; chairs with highly ornate spindles in their perfectly "straight up and down," uncomfortable-looking backs. She came to the end of the hall. A door faced her which she was sure must lead into the east wing. There, Aunt Jane had said, old Dr. Polly Phelps had had his office, consultation room, and workshop, or laboratory. 'Phemie's hand hesitated on the latch. Should she venture into the old doctor's rooms? The greater part of his long and useful life had been spent behind this green-painted door. 'Phemie, of course, had never seen her grandfather; but she had seen his picture--that of a tall, pink-faced, full-bodied man, his cheeks and lips cleanly shaven, but with a fringe of silvery beard under his chin, and long hair. It seemed to her for a moment as though, if she opened this door, the apparition of the old doctor, just as he was in his picture, would be there to face her. "You little fool!" whispered the shaken 'Phemie to herself. "Go on!" She lifted the latch. The door seemed to stick. She pressed her knee against the panel; it did not give at all. And then she discovered that the door was locked. But the key was there, and in a moment she turned it creakingly and pushed the door open. The air in the corridor had been still; but suddenly a strong breeze drew this green door wide open. The wind rushed past, blew out the candle, and behind her the other door, which she had left ajar, banged heavily, echoing and reechoing through the empty house. 'Phemie was startled, but she understood at once the snuffing of her candle and the closing of the other door. She only hoped Lyddy would not be frightened by the noise--or by her absence from her side. "I'll see it through, just the same," declared the girl, her teeth set firmly on her lower lip. "Ha! driven away by a draught--not I!" She groped her way into the room and closed the green door. There was a match upon her candlestick and she again lighted the taper. Quickly the first room in this east wing suite was revealed to her gaze.