Sarah would leave the room and Mary would stand with her face to the wall, a trembling prey to a thousand terrors. The light would quiver and shake, steps would tread the floor and cease, there would be a breath in her ears, a wind above her head. She would try to pray, but could remember no words. Sarah would lead her forth, shaking from head to foot. "You little silly. I was only playing." Once, and this hurried the climax of the episode, Mary attempted rebellion. "I want to go home, Sarah." "Well, you can't. You've got to hear the end of the story first." "I don't like the story. It's a horrid story. I'm going home." "You'd better not." "Yes, I will, and I won't come again, and I won't see you again. I hate you. I won't. I won't." Mary, as she very often did, began to cry. Sarah's lips curled with scorn. "All right, you can. You'll never see Alice again if you do." "Alice?" "Yes, she'll be drowned, and you'll have the toothache, and I'll come in the middle of the night and wake you." "I--I don't care. I'm go-going home. I'll t-t-ell m-other." "Tell her. But look out afterwards, that's all." Mary remained, but Sarah regarded the rebellion as ominous. She thought that the time had come to put Mary's submission really to the test. V The climax of the affair was in this manner. Upon an afternoon when the rain was beating furiously upon the window-panes and the wind struggling up and down the chimney, Sarah and Mary played together in Sarah's room; the play consisted of Mary shutting her eyes and pretending she was in a dark wood, whilst Sarah was the tiger who might at any moment spring upon her and devour her, who would, in any case, pinch her legs with a sudden thrust which would drive all the blood out of Mary's face and make her "as white as the moon." This game ended, Sarah's black eyes moved about for a fresh diversion; her gaze rested upon Mary, and Mary whispered that she would like to go home. "Yes. You can," said Sarah, staring at her, "if you will do something when you get there." "What?" said Mary, her heart beating like a heavy and jumping hammer. "There's something I want. You've got to bring it me." Mary said nothing, only her wide eyes filled with tears. "There's something in your mother's drawing-room. You know in that little table with the glass top where there are the little gold boxes with the silver crosses and things. There's a ring there--a gold one with a red stone--very pretty. I want it." Mary drew a long, deep breath. Her fat legs in the tight, black stockings were shaking. "You can go in when no one sees. The table isn't locked, I know, because I opened it once. You can get and bring it to me to-morrow in the garden." "Oh," Mary whispered, "that would be stealing." "Of course it wouldn't. Nobody wants the old ring. No one ever looks at it. It's just for fun." "No," said Mary, "I mustn't." "Oh, yes, you must. You'll be very sorry if you don't. Dreadful things will happen. Alice----"